Along the Jagged Path
by Nix707
Summary: ... AN: Sequel to Full Throttle. Read that first ... They're all three years older, but no amount of time will prepare them for the return of the man who had long since threatened their way of living ...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, I know I promised to update TLWL – but I'm suffering from writer's block on it! I know exactly what I want to say but it isn't coming out . . . ah, I'm pathetic, but enough about that. **

**This is the sequel to my story 'Full Throttle'. To fully understand this story you kind of need to have read my other one, but considering how it's insufferably long (sorry 'bout that, but those of you who have read it know that really couldn't have been helped) then you might just be able to pick it up as you go along, and of course if you have any questions feel free to email me.**

**This story takes off three years after the end of Full Throttle. Um, I could tell you what happened in between those three years but all of you will pick it up along the way. Oh wow, this is a really long author's note so . . . to cut it short … er . . .**

**I dedicate this to everyone who reviewed Full Throttle! You guys were my inspiration for this story, you and your demands for a sequel.**

**Intro**

**0259**

**Redgate Prison**

**No POV**

Moonlight soaked the black cape of night as a dark figure huddled in the corner of the prison. Hidden by shadows the figure's back hugged the brick wall, his breath hanging in frosty clouds before him. He wrapped his coat closer to his body, the chill that hung in the air cutting through the fabric protecting his body. Beneath the overgrown coat his t-shirt was soaked in warm red liquid – freshly spilled blood. He barely moved.

Within his mind he began to count, trying anything to pass the time. How many more minutes did he have? Five? Three? Two? Less than one? He began to shake even more violently. If not he'd die out here, alone in the darkness, with nothing but the cold to keep him company.

Suddenly a light blared out of nowhere. The formally dark prison was suddenly ablaze. Through the light that now shone from each window the man could make out shadows moving swiftly. He kept closer to the wall than ever before. This was it, he would die now. It was all over. He wrapped his arms further around his body. There was no sense in dying in such agitation. Better to make the process as painless as possible . . .

And then he saw them, way out in the distance. _Blink . . . blink blink . . . blink . . . blink blink blink blink . . . _the code. With a sudden burst of energy the man leaped from the shadows, his near frozen legs suddenly a blur of motion. The surrounding sound melted together as he raced opposite to wind, the rushing in his ears deafening him to all but his own thoughts. Somewhere in the distance he could hear yelling, whether it was in his direction he didn't know.

He could see the gate, tall and threatening, and the cutting wire that ran across from it. And there was the sign, the sign that he'd been looking at for the last three years. 'Warning: Electrocuted – Do Not Touch'. The man didn't slow down, but he closed his eyes for a brief moment in a silent prayer to Allah that his friends had managed to come through . . .

_No, _he instantly corrected himself. _Not his friends . . . _he didn't have any friends. They worked for him. That was it. Nothing else bonded them together. He grimaced as the cold wind flew in his face. His eyes stung. _Don't think . . . _he told himself as he leaped through the air towards the fence. _Don't think . . . just do._

There it was, the fence, flying towards him at an alarming speed. The sign kept flickering before his eyes. _Electrocuted . . . do not touch . . . _"Stop thinking!" he screamed at himself. The fence flew in front of him, there was nothing he could do to stop himself from touching it. And then . . . he rammed into it . . .

He clutched to the fence with his raw hands and instantly jarred himself for the shock he was sure would run through it. But nothing happened. His workers had come through. They'd managed to cut off the energy cycle. He instantly began to climb, working his body up the slippery metal rungs. His clothes felt heavy against his skin, weighing him down to oblivion. A few more yards . . . don't stop . . . just a few more yards . . .

And then he was over, running down the valley with reckless abandon. Freedom . . . it felt too good to be true. His chest tightened, his internal wind gone. Jail had not done his body good. The lights approached faster, closer. And then . . .

"Abbas?"

His name cut him like a knife. Three years since it had been used . . . since he'd been called it . . . three years of Prisoner 29736. But he wasn't Prisoner 29736 anymore, but nor was he Abbas. He was like a snake, continually shedding his skin.

"Shut up, you fool," he snapped, wrenching open the Jeep door and falling into the backseat. "Call me that again and I'll have your head." He pulled off the thick leather jacket that had saved him from possible hypothermia, followed by his blood soaked t-shirt. "From now on it's Ahmad. Ahmad Hussein."

And with that, the Jeep plunged into the cape of night, as seconds before it left sirens began blazing in the prison. The message: One Escaped Convict.

* * *

**0347**

**Harm and Mac's House**

**Harm's POV**

_Rrrrriiiiiinnnnnggggg._

I feel myself rolling over in the bed, away from the ringing. I bury my face into my pillow, my body lying limply on the bed. From beside me I can feel Make shifting over to my side and reaching over me to grab the phone.

"Mackenzie," she grunted into the receiver. A long pause followed by a yawn of, "for you" as she handed me the phone.

I wiped my eyes tiredly, blinking away the sleep. "Yeah?"

"Harm, it's Clay." He sounds agitated.

"What's wrong?" I whisper, watching as Mac rolled over back to her side of the bed and promptly fell back asleep. I crawled out of bed slowly, my eyes still weary from lack of slumber as I pulled on a sweatshirt overtop of my t-shirt.

A catch in his breath and then – "Abbas."

I felt my heart stop. "What?"

"He's out, Harm."

For a second I just can't breathe. "What do you mean he's OUT?" I'm panicked. "They can't release him. He's in prison for LIFE."

"I know that," Clay's voice is a whisper. "As of forty five minutes ago, Ali Abbas broke out of prison and is no where to be seen. He managed to kill a guard on his way out. One of the patrol men says he saw lights flashing at the bottom of the valley near Redgate but he can't be sure, meanwhile we're having the scene checked out."

His voice is so robotic, cracked under the pressure of his career. "And . . .?" I prodded, tension suddenly sweeping my body.

"I don't know, Harm," Clay whispered in desperation. "He's just . . . gone."

I could feel panic starting to spread within me. My heart was racing, this loud rush had overtaken my ears. "But they're going to find him, right?" I'm practically screaming. "I mean, he can't have gotten far. He wouldn't have risked it . . . would he?"

"I don't know," Clay said, his voice layered with internal conflict. "I think it would be awfully hard for Abbas to get out of the country – we've already got an alert for him out using Interpol. But evidently Abbas had outside help, and who knows how long he's been planning his escape? Abbas is a careful guy, and he'll wait whatever amount of time to get what he wants."

I closed my eyes. I knew that. In my case, it had been fifteen months. "I'm coming down," I whispered softly, my hand gripping the phone to my ear.

"Harm, that's not necessary," Clay said tiredly. "I'm already here. You just get some sleep."

"I won't be able to after this anyway," I said, walking down the hallway. "And I'll probably end up tossing and turning so much I'll wake Mac."

Clay heaved a sigh. "Fine."

"See you in thirty."

"See you."

I hung up the phone, this cold feeling of dread running rampant within me. Abbas back. It seemed almost unreal. That face that had haunted my dreams months after we'd returned from Italy, that cold merciless voice that accompanied him, I thought I'd never see him again. I wandered down the hallway, phone in one hand and the other stuffed in my pocket. I approached Hunter's room cautiously, opening the door silently as I knelt down beside his bed.

In the moonlight that filtered in from his open window he looked more like Mac than ever, though during the day traces of me were more pronounced. He rolled over in his bed, towards me, as though he sensed my presence. His clear blue eyes fluttered open for a moment, blinking with slumber. "Morning?"

"No," I whispered in answer, stroking the back of his head gently. "It's still night. You can go to sleep."

Hunter promptly heeded, snuggling up close to my hand. I watched him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. Abbas had done some good things. If it weren't for him, who knows if Mac and I would have had Hunter, or if we'd married, or even come close to anything beyond friendship. I sighed, standing up as I quickly adjusted Hunter's quilt, rubbing my eyes as I did so. I walked back to Mac's and my room almost ghost-like, quietly gliding through the shadows, and began to dress.

I was just putting on my jacket when –

"You're going?" I turned around back to the bed where Mac lay, blinking sleep from her eyes. She looked exhausted and I felt badly for waking her up.

"Yeah," I whispered, reaching for my shoes. "I'll be back in the morning."

Mac squinted at me. "What time is it?"

"Late," I bluntly elaborated, grabbing my watch and wedding ring off my night table. "You should go to sleep."

Mac nodded wearily. "You should too."

"I will," I whispered softly, walking out of the room. "Later."

* * *

**Same Time**

**CIA Headquarters**

**Director Clayton Webb's Office**

I leaned back in my office chair, my feet resting on my desk as my eyes fluttered closed for a moment of rest. I rubbed my temples with my hands, willing myself to recharge on energy. Kovac was nuts for loving this job, I thought savagely. But then again he was just plain nuts.

My life was hectic ever since I'd been made director. With barely six hours of sleep at night I was barely home, I lived in my office. The only days I took a little time were when Jake came to visit me. My eyes rested on the photo of him I had framed and placed on my desk – my one sign of personality. He was short for his age, rake thin, with Vera's same wavy auburn hair and my eyes – though he looked more Vera's than mine. Jake was grinning happily at the camera, looking more like his namesake than ever before. It had been nearly two weeks since I'd last seen him and it was killing me.

I smiled almost to myself as my fingers lightly ran themselves over the glass covering. The last time I'd seen him was his third birthday party when the Rabbs and the Roberts had come over. It was the last time I'd seen Vera too. I mean, well – REALLY seen Vera. I see her ever day at the office, but for like a second in passing down the halls. The last time we'd spent any time together was at our son's birthday party, and the time before that I can't even remember. We never saw much of each other any more.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead exasperatedly. _Where had it all gone wrong?_ I kept asking myself that question but I never got the answer I was looking for. I kept replaying that day we'd left Italy, perhaps closer than we ever were before – both of us still mourning the death of Jake Holter, but everything after that was like a haze. I was made director, Abbas went to trial. He struck a deal with the FBI that got him life imprisonment instead of the chair, and the judge wouldn't overrule this decision no matter how hard I plead that Abbas was dangerous. _And see where that got us._

But Jake's death had shaken us. Jake and Vera were infinitely closer than Jake and I were – I knew that and couldn't refute the fact. And somewhere in the mayhem that became our lives, we stopped finding time for each other. And when Harm and Mac married two months later, we were barely on speaking terms.

"Hey."

I looked up to see Harm standing in the doorway, shaking the rain off himself in a dog like manner. "Hi."

Harm walked over to where I sat, taking note of Jake's picture on my desk. He picked it up, smiling as he did so. "Cute picture," he said, putting it back down. "School one?"

"Yeah," I said sort of offhandedly. "Last month."

"I know," Harm nodded. "Hunter got one too." He looked next to the picture where there was a hand scrawled note from Vera on one of my notepads with the time and date of Jake's Parent-Teacher Conference – tomorrow at six. "So . . . you and Vera . . ." he trailed, not really sure where to begin. "You guys still . . . together?"

I looked down at the ground. "I haven't talked to her since Jake's birthday." I knew the admission would cost me something.

I could feel Harm's eyes on me. "And Jake?"

My throat tightened. "Well, I've called him . . . I talked on the phone with him two days ago, right after he got home from school." I fell silent

"Clay, this is job is ruining you," Harm whispered. "I see your son more than you do."

I held my head in my hands. "I can't help that . . ." My voice is pleading. "I try, Harm, I really do try . . . but I'm away so much and here all the time. I'd be there for him, I would, but I can't do that and this job. It just doesn't work."

Harm was silent.

"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I don't," I began but Harm cut me off.

"You have no clue what I'm thinking," he murmured almost to himself. He suddenly looked up at me, his blue eyes flashing. "Are you planning on telling Vera?"

My voice caught in my throat. "I don't know," I confessed, looking down at my desk. "Not tonight . . . actually, probably not tomorrow . . . well, depending on when or if Abbas is caught . . . not immedi – oh hell, I don't plan on telling her unless it's necessary," I finished.

Harm nodded, "I don't plan on telling Mac either."

I raised an eyebrow at this. Harm was big on the whole honesty issue. "Why not?"

"She'll worry about me," Harm replied bluntly, his eyes staring out the window, this strange emotion washing over them. "I don't want to scare her." Harm turned back to me. "We're going to have to go after him, aren't we?" he asked. "He isn't going to come after us anymore, is he?"

I was quiet for a minute and then, "I don't think he will."

Harm nodded silently. "Then we're going after him."

I shook my head. "No."

"No?"

"Well," I corrected myself. "Yes and no."

Harm raised an eyebrow. "Yes and no?"

"We're not going after him," I elaborated, standing up from my desk, "I am."

"Oh no, you're not," Harm bit back immediately, his blue eyes flashing. "You're not taking on Abbas alone."

"I'm not taking on anyone alone," I retorted. "I'm just not including you."

"You can't do that."

I sighed, "Yes, I can. I'm the director and you're one of my agents. You're not in on this one, Harm."

Harm surveyed me for one long moment and then, "I guess you won't be taking Vera either then."

I shook my head, "No."

"Clay, you can't protect us, no matter how much you try . . ." Harm began but I cut him off.

"Well, I can damn well try."

Harm refused to relent. "I'm going with you. I don't care what you say, Clay, if Abbas is out there he's a threat, and I'm sure as hell not going to sit around and do nothing about it while you go off man hunting."

We stood there just glaring at each other for a second, both daring to defy the other's statement and then I turned away. "Fine," I said hollowly, staring out the window in a trance-like state. "But Harm, let's keep this between us. You remember what happened with Abbas last time."

"I know," Harm whispered, standing beside me in front of the window. He smiled in grim amusement, "How could I forget?"

I watched as the rain pelted down from the angry skies above and I thought about Abbas stabbing the guard and running away, the blaze of prison lights behind him and shivered. "I wonder what Abbas is doing right now . . ."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Location Unknown**

**No POV**

Abbas surveyed himself in the mirror with grim satisfaction as he drew the pair of scissors across his forehead, snipping strand by strand evenly short, creating a younger appearance upon his face. He picked out two colored contact lenses from his small container and placed them in his eyes, blinking back tears as he did so.

_Just you wait, Clayton Webb, _he thought as he settled himself into the cot that would serve as his bed for the night. _Just you wait . . ._

* * *

**A/N: Bad? Good? Rocked? Sucked? Review and tell me!Please let me know whether to continue or spare you the torture! lol, I have a flare for drama . . . and heading off to bed now, it's about one thirty in the morning. **


	2. Family First

1**A/N: Sorry for leaving the update for this long, but I updated TLWL in between – and believe me, if you read the story, that's BIG considering how I'm so bad with updates on it. Anyways, no excuses, should have been able to update earlier. **

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, and dansingwolf!**

**Family First**

**1824**

**Hilldegard Marsdon Preschool**

**Clay's POV**

Jacob Akheal Azhad Webb sat outside classroom 202 on a yellow plastic Fisher Price table, his small hands moving up and down the paper as he switched his crayon from blue to red. Behind him was a small white clock painted to look like the moon, and though he was only three and could not tell the time, Jake knew his father was late. Whether it was the annoyed scowl that his mother wore which he could see through the small window dividing room 202 from the hallway or the sinking feeling in his gut – the all-knowing gut that he'd inherited from his father – he knew that his dad was supposed to be here and was not.

I could see him through the corner of my eye as I ran down the hall, shaking his auburn curls as he reached for another crayon. My eyes flickered to the clock. Five minutes late. Vera was going to skin me.

"Hey, Jake," I whispered, waving to him quickly. "I'll see you in a moment."

Jake stood up quickly from the Fisher Price table. "But Daddy –"

"One minute," I said quickly, ruffling his hair. "I'm just going to talk to your teacher and then I'll be right out, okay? You sit and color."

Jake looked thoughtful for a second and then, "Okay."

I stole another quick glance at him before I opened up the door. He looked thinner to me than he had last time. He was dangerously close to being turned into a rake. I sighed discontentedly. I wondered what Vera fed him, she kept a similar weight.

"Sorry I'm late," I said apologetically, sitting down on the chair next to Vera across from Jake's teacher. I flashed a quick glance at Vera who promptly ignored it, shoving a stubborn strand of dark red hair behind her ear, her eyes captured shadows. It felt like the first time seeing her.

"Don't worry," Vera smiled caustically, "based on your schedule, you're early."

Her remark stings. "Well, when you have something to do tardiness is rather unavoidable." I meet her squarely with my eyes. "But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that."

Her chin juts out defiantly. "It's not my fault my director won't give me any real cases."

"Maybe if he thought you could handle them, he would," I snapped back acidly.

"If he knew me at all he'd know I could handle it," Vera's voice is a mere hiss.

For a second there, she'd caught me off guard. "I know you, Vera."

"You _knew_ me, Clay," Vera whispered hollowly, turning away from me and focusing on Vera's teacher. "At the moment, you don't know anyone. Not even your own son."

I can't reply to that, I don't know how to. I know Jake, I know he loves basketball and I know he wants to be a fireman when he grows up and I know his favorite color's lime green. I know him. He's my son. I know him.

"Um, Mr. Webb, I don't think we've ever been introduced before," Jacob's teacher said, and I flinch as though just realizing she was there. She extends a hand to me, "I'm Mrs. Charla Davidson, Jake has told me a lot about you."

I smile and shake her hand quickly. "He's told me a lot about you too," I lied through my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I'd asked him about school.

"Well now," Mrs. Davidson sighed. "I'd like to begin by saying that you've got a wonderful boy. He's grasped quite a handle when it comes to reading, he can solve basic addition problems using our eraser tray. He listens well and doesn't talk out of turn. In fact he's almost . . ." Mrs. Davidson struggles for words. "Almost unreal, if you know what I mean."

I frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't."

Mrs. Davidson leaned back a little in her seat. "I've been in this position for the last nine years," she said smiling slightly. "And every child has their own . . . light, I'd like to say. This sort of exuberance that fills them. Some children like to talk a lot, others would prefer to run around, some have a lot of friends, others like to stick together in pairs or triplets. But they open up to each other, they socialize, and Jake . . . well, he's different," Mrs. Davidson said bluntly. "And frankly, I'm a little worried."

It was Vera's turn to frown. "Different how?"

"Well, it's not that there's necessarily anything WRONG with him," Mrs. Davidson returned. "He just . . . comes into the classroom in the morning, he puts away his things, he does his silent reading, he works on Button Math, he sits for circle time, and he says barely three words."

"Well you must understand, Mrs. Davidson," I said rather defensively. "Jake's just a quiet kid."

"Yes, he's never really been a talker," Vera joined me in verbal retaliation. "That's just the way he is."

Mrs. Davidson smiled, "And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being quiet, Ms. Azhad. But come recess time all the kids run off to the playground or the sandbox or out into the garden, and Jake sits against the wall and he watches them. He makes no move to join anyone in Tag or talk to anyone else. He just sits there until the thirty minutes are up."

I have nothing to say to this. I can't honestly believe I was ever that quiet when I was his age. "Maybe it's just a phase," I said hopefully. "He'll grow out of it, I'm sure."

Mrs. Davidson shrugged. "Well, I've had the delight of teaching Jacob for the last four months and what I can tell you is that he's very intelligent, he grasps things quickly, he's simply lovely. In terms of his social life, though, what I can say is that he's made a very good friend in Hunter Rabb, whom I think he carpools with, am I correct?"

Vera nodded, "Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

Mrs. Davidson nodded and leaned forward a little, her eyes masking importance. "Now, what I'm about to ask you I wish you not to take offense. I am just following procedure. Given Jake's lack of peer communication and his tendency for solitude, I must ask – are there any problems in the home?"

Her question comes crashing down on us. I feel this heat simmer from underneath my skin. I exhaled sharply. "First of all," I snapped sharply, "Jake does not have a tendency for solitude. He just prefers it. He is like me in that sense, I'd rather be by myself than caught in a crowd and there is nothing wrong with that. Second, Jake could communicate with people if he wanted to. And if he doesn't, well that's his decision. As you said before, Jake's a perfectly smart boy – if he has little to say that's not his fault."

"Of for God's sake, Clay," Vera rolled her eyes next to me. "The boy's as quiet as a mouse. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with him?"

"Sure, I have!" I exclaimed in sharp defiance. "And I've had them too. Maybe he doesn't talk to YOU, but he does to me."

"Oh really?" Vera asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And when was that? A month ago?"

Her voice cuts me to the core. "Two days ago, I talked to him on the phone."

Vera laughed sardonically. "Oh yes, I heard that conversation. 'Hi, Daddy. Fine, Daddy. Uh huh. Yup. Here's Mommy'."

"It's not my fault if there's nothing going on," I hissed. "He's three years old, he hasn't got much to say."

"Clay, you're not there when Hunter comes home!" I exclaimed. "I pick Jake up from Harm and Mac's house three days a week, and Hunter's always there rattling off to Mac about what he did that day, or what he learned, or who he played with and normally Mac just can't get him to shut up. Jake doesn't say one word. He WAVES."

"We can't compare Jake to Hunter!" I said, frustration seeping into my voice. "Hunter's inherited his father's mouth. Besides, he's older."

"By seven months," Vera said exasperatedly. "Face it, Clay, we've got a problem here."

"There is no problem."

"You're in denial!"

"If I were in denial that would mean there was a problem which I'm ignoring, and due to the fact that there is no problem, I am NOT in DENIAL."

Vera turned back to Mrs. Davidson who I'll admit is looking rather windblown. "You want to trace the root of Jake's problem?" She pointed a long finger at me. "Well, it all traces back to him."

"How could it trace back to me?" I defended loudly. "I'm not even there to affect him!"

"That's it!" Vera exclaimed. "That's just it, Clay! You're not even there! Your absence DOES affect him! If you knew your son just a little bit better . . ."

"I thought it was you I didn't know," I bit back sourly.

Vera's eyes narrowed. "You have a problem, Clay."

"Not nearly as many as . . ." I began but was interrupted by a not-so-obvious clearing of the throat on Mrs. Davidson's part.

She took a quick look at her watch. "Well, I'm really sorry to have to wrap this meeting up so quickly but I really must be on my way. I look forward to seeing you two again." The poor woman is practically running out the door as she says this. She turns swiftly to Jake, "And I'll see you, Jacob, at class on Monday."

Jake nodded. "Bye."

Mrs. Davidson eyed me and Vera for one more swift moment before she dawdled down the long hallway as fast as she could. I exhaled heavily, kneeling down beside Jake (a little to heavy to fit on the Fisher Price table).

"Hey, Buddy," I grinned at him.

Jake leaps into my arms, grinning brightly. "Daddy!"

I catch a quick glimpse of Vera, leaning against the doorframe, her dark eyes taking in our every moment. And in that second – that one second – this profound realization hits me. I can't read her. I have no clue what's going on in her mind, what she's thinking, what she's feeling. I'm lost. Maybe I don't know her as well as I thought I did. And the thought scares me.

"So what's up, kiddo?" I said, ruffling his hair a little as I scooped him up onto my shoulders. He weighed barely anything. "What's new at school?"

Jake shrugged. "Nuthin'."

"Oh come on, there must be something . . . a new toy, a new book, a new friend?"

Jake shook his head. "Nuthin'."

"A pretty girl?"

"No!"

I cast a quick look at Vera who was walking towards us now. She sighed tiredly, "Come on, Jake, we've got to go home and have dinner."

I felt my stomach drop. "But –" Jake began to protest but then faltered. He turned back to me. "Are you coming, Daddy?"

"Uh . . . no, Jake, um, Daddy's got to get back to work." Jake's face fell. "But I'll see you in a few days, how about that? And I'll take you to the park, and then a movie."

"Okay," was the sullen reply. It broke my heart.

I set him down on his two feet, holding his shoulders so that he looked at me straight in the eye. "I promise you I'll see you in a few days. It's just that this is a REALLY bad time for Daddy. There's a lot going on at his work and I'll do my best to see you before you go back to school on Monday, okay?"

Jake smiled but the grin never reached his eyes. He looked more like me than ever before. Serious, unreadable, his emotions undetectable against his grave exterior. "Okay."  
"So, can I have a hug?" I asked, stretching my arms open for him. He nodded and then wrapped his arms around me quickly before releasing reluctantly.

Vera tugged on his arm. "Come on, Jake, we want to beat the traffic."

"Bye, Daddy," he whispered quietly, as Vera pulled on him firmly, already setting off down the hall. I just sort of stood there in place, rooted on the spot as I watched Jake walk farther and farther from me. Vera's back was to me, her hand grasping onto Jake's smaller one, but Jake continued to face me, walking down the hall backwards. He waved at me and I waved back. Vera tugged on him again, this time to turn around but he kept looking back over his shoulder. And it was at that moment that this sudden wash of sorrow overtook me. I should be there with him, for him. But while he would be having dinner with his mother, I'd be at the office drowning in paper. Life just didn't seem fair.

"Come on, Jake, we've got to go," Vera pressed, pulling him along again, but Jake's eyes were on me. I stood there unmoving. How had my life gone so terribly wrong? I was lucky if I saw my son three times a month, and for more than fifteen minutes. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the world for a brief moment. Vera tugged Jake once more, who was stumbling backwards as he watched me. She sighed heavily, turning around, "Clay, do you want to come for dinner?"

For a moment there, I'm caught off guard. "You mean it?"

Vera shrugged. "I mean, we'll probably just have pizza but . . ."

"Say yes, Daddy," Jake said quietly. His head tilted up so his misty grey eyes met mine. "Please."

And that was all I needed to give in. "Sure," I said, walking up the hall to where Vera and Jake were, holding his small hand in mine. And it suddenly struck me then, like a hard blow to the head, that this might be the last time I do this . . .

* * *

**Some odd hours later**

**Rabb and Mackenzie House**

**Harm's POV**

"What do you think about Leslie?" Mac asked, passing the soap soaked dish to me as I rinsed it off under the tap.

"Leslie Rabb," I said, pausing for consideration. "It's a pretty name. What should her middle name be?"

Mac turns around. "Who said Leslie was a girl's name?"

I pause in confusion. "You can't honestly want Leslie for a boy."

Mac grins. "I think it would be cute."

"We're not going for cute, Mac," I lectured. "If it's a boy we're going for something strong, something firm, something manly . . ."

"Oh, but if it's a girl it has to be something prissy and cute?" Mac's eyebrow shoots into oblivion. She rests her stomach on her unshowing stomach. "And besides, who says she or he will have Rabb as a surname?"

"Hunter had Mackenzie stuck as his last name for eight months," I grinned. "There WAS a reason we changed it to Rabb."

"And messed up my acronym," Mac stuck out her tongue.

"I'm thinking . . ." I said, closing my eyes and humming 'Om' loudly as I placed my hand on her stomach. "It's another boy."

Mac withdrew from me, throwing a wet dish cloth at me. "It's a girl."

"How would you know?" I challenged.

"She's inside me," Mac retaliated. "How would you know?"

"I'm psychic."

"No, you're psychotic."

I sighed, placing my hands heavily over my heart. "Oh, Mac, you hurt me to my very core."

Mac laughed. "You missed your calling, Harm . . . you're a born actor."

I grinned, "You think?"

Mac smiled back at me, passing me another dish. "You're a regular Johnny Depp."

My eyebrows furrowed, "Do I take that as a compliment?"

Mac laughed, "take it however you want it." She smiled at me, putting the last dish away in the cupboard and leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. "You'd make a cute Willy Wonka."

I'm more disturbed than ever, but then – "Hey, what about that name?"

"If we're calling him Wonka, he can be a Rabb."

"No, I mean like, Willy . . . William," I provided. "William Rabb."

Mac nodded, grinning playfully. "Prestigious."

"It is," I said. "Hunter and William Rabb."

"It's gonna be a girl, Harm . . ." Mac trailed.

I rolled my eyes. "Just humor me for a minute. If it's a boy, can we name him William?"

Mac sighed. "I don't know, Harm, I really like Jesse . . ."

"I thought it was Leslie!" I exclaimed.

"Well, now I like Jesse," Mac said, finality empowering her voice. "What's wrong with Jesse?"

"It's a GIRL'S name, Mac," I argued pitifully.

"Jesse Rabb," Mac stated stubbornly. "Here, I'll even give you the last name."

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"Jesse William Rabb," Mac provided. "That sounds nice."

"William Jesse Rabb."

"You're kidding."

"It sounds fine!" I defended.

"It sucks dirt, Harm," Mac said. "It's either Jesse William Rabb or find another middle name."

"Well, maybe it won't be a boy at all!" I exclaimed loudly. "Maybe it'll be a girl and THEN you can name her Jesse!"

Mac grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

And I sighed, having been truly well played once again. We'd had this argument a million times. "Hey, Mac, I gotta tell you something."

Mac looks over. "Yeah?"

I took a sharp breath in, pictures of Abbas flashing before my eyes. _No, don't think about that . . . don't think about him. _"I've got to go away for a few days."

Mac turned back to the washcloths she was hanging on the counter. "Okay."

She was used to me going away. Since I'd become an intelligence officer within the CIA I had to go away every so often for little more than a week, and seeing as I hadn't had to travel in a while, it probably seemed nothing out of the ordinary for me to go now. "I've got to leave tomorrow night, but I think I'll be back by Saturday."

Mac nodded. "Where are you going?"

I hesitated. "I'm not really sure yet." And that was the truth. I had no clue where I was going.

"Okay, well, you better start packing then," Mac said lightly. "And make sure you take your - "

"Mommy!"  
Mac turned around, sighing heavily. "And that'll be Hunter."

Sure enough Hunter came sprinting out of his room, his dark hair falling over his face. "Mommy, I saw him again."

"You saw who again?" I asked.

"The Dark Man," Hunter whispered. "I saw him again, Mommy."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Hunter, there is no Dark Man."

"Yes, there is, Mommy!" Hunter pressed insistently. "He's in my room right now!"

Mac sighed, turning to me. "Do you want to do the Dark Man check?"

I lifted Hunter up onto my shoulders. "How long has it been since he invented the Dark Man?"

"I don't know," Mac frowned. "A week, maybe."

"That's pretty long for his imaginary friends," I said. "The others have only lasted two to three days."

Mac shrugged. "Face it, Harm, we've got a creative son."

I looked a little worried. "I don't remember AJ and Jimmy ever doing those things . . . and AJ's imagination was pretty active."

Mac sighed, "Lots of kids have imaginary friends, Harm. One week it'll be The Dark Man, then the next it'll be Elbert the Elephant, and next Marvin Chicklopski."

"Marvin who?" I asked as Hunter called from up on my shoulders, "Daddy, check for the Dark Man!"

"Chicklopski," Mac grinned. "He was my imaginary friend for the longest time."

"You must have been one pretty weird kid."

Mac smiled teasingly. "Who said I invented him when I was a kid?"

I swatted her lightly on the shoulder as I made my way to Hunter's room. I put him down on the bed, showed him that I was looking in his closet and under his bed and around his dresser. "See, Hunter, no Dark Man."

Hunter was already settling himself into the bed. "He was there," he mumbled sleepily as I pulled the covers around him. "I saw him."

"Night, Hunter," I whispered.

Hunter was still mumbling under his breath about the Dark Man as I exited his room softly, returning to the living room where Mac was curled up watching Law and Order: SVU. It at that moment struck me how wonderful my family was. I mean, I knew it already, but there was something about chasing away imaginary monsters for your son and then coming back to your perfectly contented wife that just gets you going. And maybe it's the fact that we have one more along the way that gives me this slightly satisfied feeling. And then there was Abbas. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I wouldn't let him hurt Mac or Hunter or Jesse/William/Leslie/whatever-the-heck-HE'LL-be. Not over my dead body.

* * *

**A/N: how terrible am I for leaving this for a week? I'm sorry for not updating so long (I'm sure you all know this speech by now). What can I say? Real life just happened to get in the way.**

**Alex:** Okay, I intend to answer all of your various critically remarked questions with the most simplistic answers I can possibly write. So - here are your answer to the following. I hope you can decipher them well enough.

1. Why Mac was promoted over Harm - Harm was DEAD, he could not BE promoted.

2. How many years of Harm's life will he lose on this one? - hmm . . . jeez, I'm just coming up with a week here, but you can calculate that into fractions of a year if you want.

3. Has Harm always been a liar? - No, and he is not one. And if you want to review and complain to me that you've never lied in your life, I would laugh. I do not know you, but I would still laugh my socks off.

4. Does Mac need to be protected? - Hell, no, but can you honestly tell me that Harm would not jump at the chance to protect her? Harm has never struck me as the kind of guy that would sit back and relax while the safety of his family was put in jeopardy.

5. Harm did not miss the birth of his child. I know this was not a question, but I'm simply stating he was there right next to Mac while Hunter was born.

6. Why did I not kill Harm? - BECAUSE HE'S HARM!

7. Why I'm not sparing you on this story - DON'T READ IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO.

**Fic chic: **yeah, he is, and he helped the group so much, it would be impossible to write this story if he hadn't been in the first one.

**Dansingwolf: **well, I thought about letting Harm return to the JAG Corps, and then I was like — well, that would cause some problems in the office because of him and Mac being married and all, and I didn't want Harm being transferred to a different office 'cause most likely it would be really far away. Plus it would be more exciting if Harm was in the CIA. An intelligence officer only. He's not in field ops, I didn't think Mac would really go for the idea. And I updated TLWL! Lol, I'm so proud of myself . . . it took me forever to write. Hmm . . . seems my reply is as long as your review!

**Pissed Off Poet 1: **Yeah, I am going to drag out the Clay and Vera story. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. I mean, Harm and Mac are now "one" so I figured I had to have SOME kind of love story in here. Oh yeah, and another to come . . . but you're not supposed to know about that yet.

**TV Angel 711: **lol, yes, another Rabb kid! And now I have to face the battle of picking another name . . . omg, how do I get myself into these messes?

**Froggy0319: **aww, thanks . . . but I really gotta get this story rolling. I'll just die if it's as long as Full Throttle.

**Upfire: **thanks! And I'll definitely keep it up - I have a story to complete, after all . . .

**FoxyWombat: **lol, and I've got to read your next chapter! I was like just finishing typing this chapter up when I got your alert and I was like "should I stop and read, or keep writing?" and then I was like, "FoxyWombat would want me to keep writing . . ." So I went on and wrote and now I have to go read the next chapter!

**Vhosek malacath: **yeah, actually, it was kind of surprising how fast I got the sequel out. I was going to wait another week but hey, what the heck? Life was getting a little boring without it.

**Ella: **thanks! I was sad to see Full Throttle end too . . . that's kind of why I came up with this story. Too sad to see it go . . .

**Tizy: **stalk me relentlessly? Wow, that's kind of creepy. Lol, I actually like FT more than I do TLWL, I guess because it's more dramatic. I don't know, I never expected either of them to get so many reviews. Especially TLWL. I really don't see what people see in it . . . and I know I'm the self-critical kind, but seriously - like, what's the attraction?

**MarineJAG: **well, good luck with your New Year's resolution! I think I'd die if I reviewed every chapter I read. True, I don't read a lot A LOT, but I find a few good stories that I really like and then put them on story alert. Actually, I'm kind of sad that way. My friend, she has like over a hundred stories on story alert and like twenty on author alert, I keep everything as a top ten . . .

**Mackenise Jackson: **lol, thanks! I really can't wait to get properly into this story . . . I'm feeling kind of excited.

**Starryeyes10: **thanks!

**MiDushiNoSushi: **yeah, lol, all the FT readers just kind of transferred over here. I was seriously really surprised when I got as many reviews as I did on my first chapter - on FT's first chapter I didn't get half as much. I think I got like thirteen or something like that . . . it was just sort of shocking. And then I saw all the names and I'm like, "they're all back!" It was kind of funny.

**Syrae: **thanks! Believe me, loads to come. I'd give you a preview 'cept I'd probably rant on and give away the ending, which I really wouldn't want to do since the details are kind of fuzzy at the moment.

**JamieAKAaclassyone: **lol, well I'll see what I can do for you on the Pants-tragic-department-store-stampede thing. I never really thought about it, but that seems like a rather good idea . . . hmmm . . .

**Kelly: **Alright, I posted my second chapter - but you girls have yet to post your various stories! Don't worry about writer's block on OAO - I'm going through that same thing with TLWL, just wait it out, Kelly. And I'm not-so-patiently waiting for an update on The Letter, and if that doesn't come soon . . . why, who knows when the BH fluff will appear? Lol, Julie.

**BrittanyLS: **thanks! I'll try and uphold the standards FT's set.

**Alix33: **omg, I totally forgot about the lethal-injection-thingy! Where is my mind these days? Hm, okay, how about this - I'll do my best not to lose anyone this time around and if I do, I give you permission to stick Abb as with the lethal-injection-thingy.

**JulieM: **thanks! And there's even more to come . . . lol

**southernqt: **Yes, yes, that's right. Jake lost his memory, was helplessly wandering around Venice, gravely injured . . . where he was taken in by an old woman and her daughter. Together, over the years, they nursed him back to health while he suffered from incurable amnesia . . . until he meets the gang all over again. LOL, you have quite an imagination - GO INTO WRITING.

**Toplesslemon: **I know, that's all I can say on the subject. All my TATE dreams dashed with those two syllables . . . Twilight . . . lol, Abbas and Ari are one of the same, don't ya think? They both deserve to be shot upside the head. And I'd gladly be the one to do it.

**Reni-Maniac: **thanks!

**Kyrapura: **lol, thanks for letting me off the hook! You're too kind, but I'll try and get another chapter of TLWL out as soon as humanly possible.

**Prinnie: **Well, Hallie and Harmon Roberts are both four and a half, Hunter's nearly four, and Jake's just past three. And yeah, I meant preschool. Lol, it would be just a tad bit weird having them all in school at their age.

**Disneygirl1962: **thanks! And I'm a complete shipper as well, so it shouldn't be hard to fit in a few HM moments here and there. LOL

**Radiorox: **lmao, don't you just hate it when the technological world gangs up on you? Alright, I'll admit JAG's Webb sucks. JAG did not use Webb to the best of his capabilities. What DPB was thinking with Paraguay, I'll never know. But don't you like my Webb at least a LITTLE more than you like JAG's? See, mine has actually FEELINGS.


	3. One Up, Two Down

**A/N: Alright, I figure I should give some facts on this story cuz I don't want to be misunderstood this early in the game.**

**Warning:** this is not fluff. If you're looking for fluff I can recommend a number of good stories to you, but this isn't one nor is the story prior to it. I don't write smut either. I have never been much fond of it, so don't expect to find any here. That's not to say I'm romance free, however much I sound like it. But then again, all of you reading this have probably read Full Throttle, so I guess you already know what I'm about.

**Rated: **T, not for any specific content I'm going to reveal, just because I felt uncomfortable thinking anyone that isn't a teenager or above that age should be reading it. Granted, I would have probably read it before I turned thirteen, but not everyone is like me.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the JAG cast. Wish I did, but I also wish for a million dollars and so far that hasn't really come through. However, I do own: Vera Azhad, Jake Azhad, Jake Holter, Anthony Shapiro, Teddy White, Charles Kovac, (soon to appear) Nick Holter, (soon to appear) Nysa Azhad, and the ever popular Abbas.

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, and Bookworm0485! If I left anyone out, please let me know. **

**One Up, Two Down**

**1936**

**Azhad Residence**

**Vera's POV**

It seems like an awful long time since Clay's last been in my house. It's hard to believe that the last time he was was three years ago when we were actually living together. Of course, Catherine and Harm also lived with us, so I could say it was anything but private, but it certainly does show you how many steps you've taken in the last three years. With my case, I'm just not sure whether it's backwards or forwards.

I opened up the door, shaking my key inside the lock and turning it open. Jake immediately rushed in, dumping his school bag by the side of the door and kicking off his sneakers onto the doormat. "Jake, don't –" I began but he had already shut the door to his room. I sighed, picking up his bag and moving it to its proper place by the coat closet. I turned to Clay, "Make yourself at home."

After Jake was born and we'd returned to Washington, I traded in my rather glamorous apartment for a small house in the heart of the city. It wasn't much, with barely enough backyard to prompt any weeds, and only three bedrooms, though the third was more of a closet than anything. But still it was home, to me an escape from the work that I had drowned myself in years before. The years before Jake.

"I like what you've done with the place," Clay said, his eyes traveling around the hallway as I lead him into the kitchen. Pictures of our son surrounded the walls and the mantles and the tables and nearly every place you could think of. There was this almost lost look in Clay's eyes as he said, "When you first moved in here it was bare."

It suddenly struck me like a bolt of sudden memory that I had still been talking to Clay when I'd bought the house. He'd even helped me move in the furniture because I insisted that actual movers cost too much. "Yeah," I said, casting him a look. "But work hasn't been too busy, I find I have a lot of free time on my hands."

Clay sighs heavily. "Vera, can we just make it through this night without talking about work?" His voice pleads with me. "Please?"

I nodded. "Okay."

This dull silence seemed to suddenly surround the room. This is where our life was. Without work, there was no conversation. Nothing. No spark of romance, or even interest. We were nothing. Just two people . . . strung together by fate. There was one point in time where Clay trusted me to have his back. There was one point when I trusted he fact that Clay trusted me. All of that seems so far into the past.

"Mommy!" Jake suddenly burst into the room. "I can't find my shoes."

"Did you look in your closet?" I asked.

Jake nodded.

"Beside your bed?"

Jake nodded again.

I sighed, "Clay, will you help him find his shoes while I order in pizza?"

"Uh, sure," Clay said, suddenly getting up from the table and moving to exit the kitchen. "Oh, wait," I said suddenly. "Do you still like ham and pineapple on your pizza or have your taste buds shifted?"

"No, ham and pineapple's great," he replied as I held the phone to my ear, repeating his order to the pizza guy.

"Yeah, a medium sized ham and pineapple, and another medium with hot peppers, onions, and green peppers . . . and four cokes . . . yes, that's it, thank you," I hung up with a satisfied smile.

Clay cocked up an eyebrow. "Onions, green peppers, and hot peppers? I never knew you went for that."

"Oh, I don't," I said, following Clay into Jake's room. "Your son does, I just follow his lead."

"Jake?" Clay asked incredulously.

I turned to him. "Do you have another son?"

"No . . ." Clay whispered, not quite understanding the fact I was joking. He looks down at Jake who's on the carpet scrambling to find his shoes. "I just . . . I didn't know he liked . . . never mind."

I stare at him with a faintly worried expression. "Are you okay, Clay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied numbly. He got down on the carpet with Jake, "Come on, Jake, let's find your shoes."

* * *

**0254**

**Rabb Household**

**Mac's POV**

"Are you gonna get any sleep at all tonight?" I yawned, wandering into the kitchen with one of Harm's sweatshirts covering the top half of my night gown. It always got rather chilly at night.

Harm sat wide awake at the kitchen table, his fingers pounding on the laptop. "I'll try."

I turned on the sink and poured myself a glass of tepid water. "What are you doing anyway?" I asked drowsily, my hair all messed up from my constant tossing and turning upon the pillow.

"Work," Harm muttered distractedly, moving the mouse up to the top of the screen and clicking open a file. I sighed, moving behind him and beginning to rub his shoulders, causing Harm to quickly minimize the file. Harm leaned back in the chair looking utterly exhausted. "That feels good."

"I'm glad," I said, slumber weighing heavily on my eyes. "You all packed?"

"Yeah," Harm said quietly. "You should go to sleep."

"I will in about ninety seconds," I replied wearily, withdrawing my hands from Harm's shoulders. "I'm beat."

"Hmmm," Harm muttered distractedly, opening the file once more. "I'll wake you up around . . . six?"

"Six thirty," I replied, putting the glass in the dishwasher and beginning to walk down the hall. "I'll need the extra half hour."

Harm chuckled tiredly. "What did you do that's made you so sleepy anyway?"

I yawned, "You mean what HAVEN'T I done? I chased Jake and Hunter around all day, finally managed to get them to school, then came the office only to be beaten by Bud in court and thoroughly harassed by Sturgis who needed some paper or the other, and then Hunter said he was feeling sick and the preschool called me so I came down to pick him up but by that time he's already feeling better so I go back to the office only to be fifteen minutes late for court. It was just lucky for me the Judge had three children of her own so she knew what we mothers go through."

Harm grinned wryly. "Sounds like you had a fun day."

"Oh yeah, it was a blast," I replied sarcastically, peering into Hunter's room. "Oh good, our little angel's asleep," I sighed. "After you left last night he crawled into our bed. He's become quite the insomniac."

"Don't worry," Harm said as I wandered back down the hallway towards him. "He'll grow out of it, just as he will The Dark Man."

I yawned pulling up next to Harm. "I know, but he's just so restless these days." I kissed Harm lightly. "Just try and get in a few hours of shut eyes before morning," I said drowsily. "You've got to travel tomorrow, and who knows when you'll get to sleep then."

"I'll try but I make no promises," Harm replied mechanically.

"Oh yeah, and Harm?"

"Yeah?"

I smiled, "In case you're gone before I wake up tomorrow, stay safe."

"Mac, I'm an Intelligence Operative, we don't endanger ourselves," Harm replied more to ease my nerves than anything. "We run chicken at the first sign of mortal peril."

"Well, you've never been that way and I doubt you ever will," I argued, rolling my eyes.

Harm smiled, "I'll be fine, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it."

"Good night, Mac."

I surveyed him through my almond shaped brown eyes from the doorway to our bedroom. I sighed, my voice soaked in slumber and this almost surreal satisfaction. "Night, Harm."

* * *

**Few Hours Before**

**Azhad House**

**Clay's POV**

"Good night, Jake," Vera whispered, as Jake scrambled beneath the thick quilts that enveloped his bed. Jake rubbed his eyes sleepily, coughing almost dryly. "Is your throat still bothering you?"

Jake nodded.

"Okay," Vera whispered, her hands fingering Jake's dark copper curls. "I'm going to go get some of the cough syrup for you, okay? In the mean time, Daddy will tell you a bed time story."

Vera got up from where she'd been kneeling beside his bed and left through the open door. I moved closer to Jake, sitting down kind of awkwardly beside him in his bed. It suddenly struck me how long it had been since I'd tucked him in. Vera did it nearly every day. Jealousy panged dully within me. I missed this.

"Um, which story do you want me to read you?" I asked Jake, my eyes scanning the small amount of books he had piled in his shelf. "The Cat in the Hat . . . The Berenstein Bears . . . Mr. Poppin's Penguins . . ."

"No," Jake said, from underneath his mess of sheets and covers.

"No to what?"

"No book," Jake replied smiling. "Just talk."

The request was so simple, yet laden with an incredible amount of responsibility. "Just talk?" I repeated sort of dumbly. "Talk about what?"

Jake shrugged. "Anything."

I cleared my throat. "What do you want to know?"

I felt like I was negotiating some sort of deal with one of the other various foreign intelligence ministers. I forcefully reminded myself this was my three year old son. Jake smiled. "Anything."

Anything. Lord, he was about as definitive as I was. I looked around Jake's room, hoping for some object of inspiration when I saw it, the picture on his bookshelf. It was of Vera and Jake, taken perhaps a year ago. Jake looked younger. And they were happy. It sort of broke me. They were really truly happy.

"You know, when I met your Mommy, we were really young," I said, not quite sure where I was going with this. But I just kept on looking at that photograph. I felt old right then, like someone who's life had passed right before his eyes and he hadn't known it till it was gone. "Not that we're old now or anything, but it was a long time ago."

Jake blinked. Maybe he didn't understand what I was talking about, but people were always making that assumption about me when I was as kid, and boy were they wrong. I wouldn't underestimate Jake, he reminded me of myself in more ways than I thought were healthy. "We were on two different missions – you know what your mommy does, don't you?"

It suddenly occurred to me I couldn't ever remember actually explaining what Vera or I did. Jake nodded, "She does special things. Things for the president. So do you."

Apparently Vera had covered that ground. I cleared my throat. That wasn't exactly the most accurate description, but about as detailed as you'd want to go with a three year old. "Well, we were doing two different things when we met. She was . . . um, catching a bad guy."

"Like Spiderman does?" Jake interrupted.

"Uh, yeah," I said smiling, "like Spiderman does. We were both being introduced to the President of Russia. That's when I first saw mommy."

"What did you think?" Jake interrupted again.

My eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what did you think when you met mommy?" Jake clarified. "Did you know she was mommy?"

I laughed at the innocence of the question. "Sort of . . ." I trailed. "I knew she was different."

"Different how?"

Jesus, the kid asked a lot of questions. "She was very pretty," I replied honestly. "And she was smart. And she liked to poke fun of me."

Jake stared in confusion. "What do you mean 'poke fun of you'?"

"She liked to tease me," I said. "And she was very good at it."

"Does mommy still tease you?" Jake asked, his head resting further on the pillow.

"I don't know," I asked, lightly stroking his forehead. "Does she?"

There was a pause of silence on Jake's end and then – "Do you still think mommy's pretty?"

I'm caught off guard by the question. I evade it the only way I know how to. "Why?"

Jake shrugged. "Do you?"

Damn, the kid was persistent. I looked into Jake's grey eyes – the eyes that mirrored my own. The childlike innocence that filled them prevailed over anything else. They were the only feature of his that could even relate to any of my own. He was lucky that way, I guess, that he looked more like Vera than me. "Yes, I do," I replied slowly.

Jake looked puzzled by this. He frowned in thought. "Then how come you don't live with us?"

To say I'm windblown would be an understatement. For a second there, my mind just draws a complete blank. And then – "Jake, just because you think someone's pretty, doesn't mean you live with them."

"But Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac live together," Jake protested. "And Uncle Bud and Aunt Harriet."

"Yes, well," I begin only to find I'm out of any words to use. What do you say to that? How do you explain to your three year old son why you don't live with his mother? I can't even say I'm divorced. "They're married."

"How come you're not married?"

I had hoped he wouldn't have asked that, but I was never granted with such luck. "Because . . . um . . ."

"I've got the cough syrup," Vera suddenly appears in the door way. Saved by the bell. Halleluiah!

She pours into a teaspoon for Jake and tips it into his mouth. She ruffled his auburn hair fondly. "Now get to sleep, sweetie. Aunt Mac will be here early tomorrow to take you to school."

"'Kay," Jake whispered contentedly, closing his eyes. "Daddy, will you be here in the morning?"

I cast an uneasy glance at Vera who avoids my eyes. "No, I won't."

"Mmkay," Jake said, rolling over and wrapping his little arms around me. "Night."

"Good night," I whispered in return, rubbing his back with one hand as he slid away from me, falling gently against his pillow as his eyes fell to a close. I waited there for a minute, just watching him, before I felt Vera tug gently on my arm as we both left his room.

"I heard you talking to Jake from outside in the hall," Vera cut to the chase immediately. For a second there I feel this almost anxious knot catch hold of me but then – "I didn't hear what you were saying, but Jake was talking to you. And I mean really talking to you."

"Yeah," I replied sort of offhandedly. "He asks a lot of questions."

Vera looked down at the ground, smiling sort of brokenly. "To you he does," she whispered. Her eyes flipped up to meet mine. "He has conversations with you. For anyone else, it's hard to get three words out of him."

"He talks to you, Vera," I whispered gently, my hand touching her arm. And for a second there, I feel this sort of zing of electricity that spreads from my hand to her body. A comforting kind of feeling.

Vera rubbed her eyes furiously. "No, he doesn't, Clay. Not like he talks to you. I'm just the person that feeds him and clothes him and bathes him. You're his hero, Clay. He worships you."

"He shouldn't," I replied savagely, turning away. "I'm never here."

The tenderness of the moment is not lost by neither Vera nor I. "You could be," Vera whispered. "You could, Clay. Take him tomorrow, let him stay at your apartment. You're always welcome to spend time with him."

"I . . . I can't," I whispered, trying my best not to look into Vera's eyes.

"Sure you could," Vera pressed. "Just leave the office a little earlier and . . ."

"No, I really can't," I pushed back. My throat suddenly felt dry. "I'm going away tomorrow. I leave that evening."

Vera stares at me. "And you never said anything?" Her voice rises a little. "You're going away tomorrow and you don't bother to inform me?"

"I just found out," I defended futilely but Vera was already walking away from me. "Oh, don't do this, Vera," I pleaded. "I would take Jake tomorrow, I would. If I just didn't have to . . ."

"But, Clay, that's always the excuse!" Vera exclaimed, turning around suddenly. "You're always too busy, or you're away or somewhere, or you can't find the time, or you have something else to do. Meanwhile, you're missing your son's childhood. Just tell me this – is what you have to do tomorrow REALLY more important than spending a little quality time with your only child?"

I can feel my heart drumming loudly within my ears. I loved Jake. I loved Jake infinitely more than any other being on this earth. And tonight more than any other day had proved to me how much more I needed to be there. But then there was Abbas, and if he harmed one hair on my son's head I knew I'd lose it. If he so much as touched Vera . . .

I grimaced. My eyes flipped up to meet hers, her dark night like eyes. My answer echoed within my ears. I loved Jake. I cared about him, cared for him. And his safety. "Yes," I whispered.

Vera stood there, staring at me, and then she sighed as she opened up the front door to let me out of the house. "I wish it weren't," she whispered, closing the door, and leaving me standing out on her doorstep cold and alone with the threat of tomorrow looming over me.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, uh, I know I didn't have much HM in this chapter – but I'll have a lot more of Harm and Mac in the next. I began this chapter actually with Mac and then realized, I forgot I hadn't ended the previous night and I was writing the next morning so – good news, I've got half of the next chapter done!**

**Radiorox: **lol, I guess it's just something about my distinct personality that really pisses people off. And you're right, everything up to season nine was fine with Webb. He put Harm and Mac in some tough spots, great shipper moments that DPB didn't take far enough, and was a generally fine character until Belisarius completely destroyed him with Paraguay. Ever since then I was thoroughly nauseated when he made his way onto the screen.

**Dansingwolf: **lol, yes, many people seemed to like the fact that Mac was pregnant. Wonder why . . . lol, I thought that would be a rather crowd-pleasing detail. Ah, I wanted to introduce my new character in this chapter but towards the end I realized it wasn't quite the moment so I held back, but now I'm itching to write her in, so . . . hopefully next chapter! Which due to my mix up is already half done.

**Southernqt: **thanks, and I'm trying to keep it sort of down to earth but not . . . I don't know – ah, I just do not have a way with words. But I like writing the HM homelife for some reason. I don't know, normally that kind of stuff doesn't settle with me because I'm a person that craves action, but it was just kind of nice to write. Idealistic.

**Samantha: **Yeah, Jesse is a cute name. Gender neutral. I love gender neutral names. And yes, Harm's in the CIA. He's an intelligence officer. I didn't want him as a field op. Like you said, I didn't think Mac would go for it.

**Alex: **lol, I'm not as cruel and evil-minded as to actually name the kid Leslie. To tell you the truth, I was actually rather shocked to find out it COULD be used for a boy. Now, as much as I'd love to take credit for 'Return To Me', that rather brilliant story was written by Radiorox. However, the fact that we both seem to make you mad is rather amusing, but you're far from the first person I've seemed to have displeased, so I'm not shocked. However, the fact that you think I'm a good writer was rather surprising. Pleasantly so, considering I've never really thought of myself as anything stupendous. Don't be afraid to keep reviewing, even if it is only to flame, as mentioned before I do accept anything in a review (except for story advertisements, that really bugs me). Lol, it's reviewers like you that seem to make it all worth it in the end.

**Music lover: **I agree, Clayton Webb's a very intriguing character. He's interesting, he surprises you, I do not agree AT ALL with what they did to him in the ninth season (he turned into the object of my hatred at that point in time), but now it's just like – he had a good character for seven years, I'd like to perfect that form of him. I mean, JAG just isn't JAG without Webb.

**Abigaile: **thanks, and who knows on the Dark Man? Though everyone so far seems to have the same theory. Glad you're liking the story!

**marineJAG: **I know, like when I was still coming up with the sequel I kept telling myself it would be unrealistic to have Harm back at JAG because he and Mac couldn't be under the same chain of command – he'd be in an entirely different location, which I didn't want. So then I thought, well – Webb's the head of CIA, of course he'll give Harm a job! So everything just seemed to work itself out there. I like my Webb a lot more than JAG's because to me my Webb seems more human – of course, that's thoroughly biased of me to say, but I can't help it.

**Laura: **well, I'm sorry to hear you've lost interest, but I hope you have fun with your fluff.

**Froggy0319: **lol, lotta tears you got going there, froggy. And I knew you'd be happy with Mac being pregnant! I was thinking of you and all the other shippers out there when I wrote in that little detail. And who knows . . . is Hunter seeing Abbas . . . or isn't he? Lmao, I sound like one of those bad Halloween commercials.

**Lani: **lol, at the exact moment you said it was 10:47 I got your review and looked down at my computer clock and it said 10:47 as well and I was like, "Oh yeah, we're in the same time zone." That totally slipped my mind there. lol, as you've probably guessed, I'm not that bright.

**FoxyWombat: **yeah, I try and make the kids different. I usually kind of cut them all as one, but I was having a rather enlightening discussion with my mother the other day and she told me that as a kid I was the quietest person I ever met, and I used to talk to myself. And I found this very funny, because now I just can't stop talking. So I made Jake mirror me.

**Tizy: **lol, no, I don't think kicking Alex's butt is quite necessary at the moment. Alex and I seemed to have come to . . . some sort of mutual understanding. I'll leave it at that. However, I'll keep you as my secret weapon for anything that may lay in the future. How about that? Lol, and yes, DPB did hold off on some of the playful banter that used to lay between Harm and Mac. That was kind of sad, but I understand that he wanted for form it into a more mature relationship. However, I'm far from mature and even farther from writing it.

**Bookworm0485: **thanks for the names! I'll keep those in mind when I'm picking them.

**TV Angel 711: **thanks, when I need names I'll send out the name alert like I did with FT. That worked really well last time – my whole name was donated. I've got a great bunch of reviewers with even better taste.

**JamieAKAaclassyone: **yes, The Dark Man lurks beside Hunter while Harm goes away – the only question remains: is he as fictitious as everyone seems to believe? Lol, well you'll find out soon. Not next chapter soon, but soon enough. That's really more cliffhanger material.

**Pissed Off Poet 1: **yes, another paring, and I have a feeling that they'll be well received. I've introduced them briefly in passing – foreshadowing (yes, you spelt that right) for the future – just in case I ever wanted to write a sequel. And I guess it's a good thing I thought to include them so early in the story or it might be hard to bring them in now. And boy, was I tempted to bring one of them in this chapter, but I had to restrain myself. Rather forcefully, I might add.


	4. Tracking Teams

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY! Let me begin with that. I would have updated like two days ago but then real life got in the way and this is my first time actually on the stinking computer in the last three days so – now I update.**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, and Shalimar 2! If I left anyone out, please let me know. **

**Tracking Teams**

**0542**

**Rabb and Mackenzie Household**

**Harm's POV**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

I roll over in the bed, managing to squash myself between Mac's and my pillow, faintly muffling the sound. Slumber weighs heavily on my unopened eyelids. I shift a little farther into the bed, sheets and covers and pillows drowning me.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Harm," Mac mutters sleepily from beside me. "Shut the damned thing off."

Reluctantly I rolled over to the other side and slapped the alarm button. I rose groggily, rubbing my eyes on my t-shirt sleeve. The world seems to spin for a moment as my eyes adjust to the crack of morning light seeping in through our semi-open curtain. I struggle into a pair of jeans as Mac rolls over into the middle of the bed now that I'm gone, stretching almost catlike across the mattress.

"Hey," I whispered softly, crossing near the bed to pick up my keys and wallet off my bedside table. "I'll see you in a few, okay?"

"Kay," Mac yawned, her eyes remaining closed.

"Call me if you need me," I said, grabbing my jacket out of our closet. By now, this dialogue was traditional, performed every time I went away. We were both very much accustomed to it. "I'll have my cell with me at all times."

"Kay," she murmured.

"Love you."

"Kay."

I grinned. Mac at six in the morning was not really one with words. I opened the door to our room softly and exited even more silently. Hunter was known infamously for his insomnia, and we'd gotten him down last night with barely more than a peep, and this was considered an enormous feat.

I crept in through Hunter's open door, sunlight slowly filtering into his room through his open-blind window. I knelt down beside his bed, he was unmoving in the early morning stillness. Not wanting to awake him, I didn't touch him, instead whispered a barely audible good-bye. His face looked completely at peace in the morning light, kind of like Mac when she was watching a movie or reading a book she really liked. Totally in their own world.

I guess I look that way flying, I've never really thought about it – though I don't suppose I'd know, considering I can't see myself. But I get that really quick-spreading sort of elation, this sort of ultimate high, and I'm completely zoned. It feels real nice, sort of tingly – well, you know what I mean.

I turned off the burglar alarm and gently pulled my Corvette out of the garage, balancing my cell phone on my shoulder as I punched in Webb's number when I stopped at a red light. I paused a little as the ringing echoed in my ears, my fingers drumming gently on the steering wheel, and then –

"Webb."

"Hey," I greeted kind of strained. The light turned green. "I just left."

"We could probably be in Redgate in a coupe of hours if we left now," Clay reasoned. "But we should probably stop by the office first, check in to see if there are any messages for either of us, then hit the road before the morning traffic starts to set in."

His words have this sort of artificial effect on my sleep-deprived state. "Hey, Clay?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

"Just driving," Clay's voice sounds weary, fatigued. I guess I sound like that too.

"You get a good night's sleep?" I asked, as I pulled my Corvette around a turn.

"Why are you asking me this?"

For a minute, his question plays in my mind. And then – "Because I don't think anyone does."

"I'm fine, Harm."

"Keep telling yourself that, maybe it'll be true," I reasoned with depth far beyond any I could have imagined myself possessing. I closed my eyes for a moment. I'd left the house without coffee, and now my caffeine-deprived body was craving the forgotten elixir of life.

"You get a good sleep last night?" Clay asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, immediately after realizing he could not see my shrug. "S'alright."

"Did you _get _any sleep last night?"

"Yes," I said rather indignantly.

"How much?"

"'Bout an hour."

"You're running low, Harm."

Clay's voice fought to me. Yeah, I knew I should have gotten more sleep last night, but the way I saw it the outcome was unavoidable. Had I gone to bed even four or five hours earlier I wouldn't have been able to fall asleep anyway. Even Mac's steady breathing probably wouldn't have helped. At least I was somewhat productive with all my sleepless hours.

"Hey, Clay, suppose we catch Abbas," I said, easing myself back in my seat. "Think he'll get the chair?"

"For?"

"Escaping and all," I elaborated carefully.

I could hear the shrug in Webb's voice. "Not our call, Harm. We'll see what the state can do but until then – we've just got to focus on catching Abbas."

"Yeah," I repeated sort of numbly. "I know."

There was an almost pained silence on the other line and then – "I'll see you in a few minutes, Harm."

"Bye," was my quick response as I folded my cell phone and put it in my pocket. My eyes flew back to the road that stretched out long and winding in front of me, and I found myself wondering if there was only one way to ride a road. And I didn't mean general direction.

* * *

**Later that day**

**Rabb and Mackenzie Household**

**Mac's POV**

"You two doing okay?" I asked, ducking into Hunter's room briefly as Hunter, Jake, and the Roberts twins stretched out on the carpet, a minefield of Lego surrounding them. Sun filtered in through the open window, Hunter's rocket decorated curtains swaying gently in the wind.

Hunter nodded. "Yes, Mommy."

"You want anything?" I asked. "Cookies, carrots . . ."

Stupid question.

Hunter grinned. "Cookies, please."

Hallie and Harmon nodded in agreement. I looked over at Jake who sat quietly, his grey eyes matching my brown ones. "Do you want some cookies too, Jake?" He just stares at me. "Chocolate chip . . .?"

Jake nods. I sigh, walking back down the hallway. If I didn't know his parents so well, and how they could both at any given moment talk your ears off, I'd just completely give up on his verbal communication skills. He'll grow into it, I thought as I cut up a tube of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip cookies onto a tray. Hunter had gone through a silent spell too, but it had lasted barely two weeks.

_Knock Knock._

I looked up to see Harriet rapping on my screen door, behind her two rather tall gangly boys. "Hey, can we come in?"

"It's unlocked!" I called as Harriet opened up the door. Jimmy rushed to meet me, and I promptly scooped him into my arms as I did so, leaning in a little to pop the cookies in the oven. "Why, hello, Saint Jimmy," I greeted the six year old seriously. "How was school?"

"First grade's fun," Jimmy replied smiling as I eased him down onto his own two feet. He looked around. "Where're Hallie and –?"

"That gang's in Hunter's room," I said, watching as Jimmy scampered off down the hall. I turned back to Harriet. "Wow, he's getting BIG, Harriet."

"Yeah, he is," Harriet muttered rather distractedly as she turned back out through the screen door. "AJ, leave the poor cat alone and get in here!" She turned back to me. "Boys," she said, shaking her head. "God, I hope your second's a girl."

I smiled. "Harm seems to think it's a boy."

Harriet's eyebrow shot up. "What does he know? It's not like it's –"

"Inside his stomach," I finished, nodding in agreement, having had the exact same conversation with Harm the night before. "I know."

"Well, I'll let you in on a little secret," Harriet grinned, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Bud thought both AJ and Jimmy were girls, in speaking of which –" Her voice rose considerably – "AJ Roberts, get your little butt in here!"

AJ appeared at the doorway, his back turned to us as he threw little pieces of bark for one of the stray cats to catch. He stood next to his mother, the same kind of good natured grin over taking his face. He looked almost all his mother, with the same honey blonde hair – though AJ's slightly more golden – and excited blue eyes. Jimmy looked more like his dad.

"AJ, you've grown since the last time I've seen you!" I exclaimed at the ten year old who promptly pushed back his hair with his hands like Harm used to do back in the old days.

"Aunt Mac, you saw me last week," he argued grinning.

"And I swear you've grown since," I said, tracing the top of his head up to my neck. "How tall are you?"

"Nearly five feet."

I shot Harriet an imploring look. "That's awfully tall for a ten year old."

Harriet shrugged. "What can I say? We've tried not feeding him, but he complains about child abuse." She ruffled AJ's hair fondly. "You just can't win with this kid."

AJ looked around. "Where are the others?"

"Hunter's room, if you want to join them," I said, motioning down the hallway.

"Um . . . no thanks," AJ said. He's at an age where playing with his little brother and friends is more torture than anything. He looked into the living room. "Mind if I watch TV?"

"Not at all," I said as AJ walked into the living room and slumped onto the couch. "Man, your kids are really growing, Harriet."

Harriet rolled her eyes as she took a seat at the kitchen table. "Don't remind me." I smiled. Harriet looked around the room and then into the living room through the opening in the wall. "So, is Harm around?"

"Uh, no, he's away – left today," I said, pouring some tea into a cup for me. I motioned to it. "Do you want some?"

"Sure," Harriet said as I reached for another cup. "Thanks."

"Anyways," I continued, "Harm's usually not at home this early in the day. Comes home around six maybe. Why?"

"Oh, Bud wanted to know what gel Harm uses in his hair," Harriet waved the comment off with a roll of her eyes. "He has that award ceremony coming up next week, and insists he wants to 'look good'." Harriet shrugged, "I told him he already looked good, but apparently that doesn't mean much coming from your wife any more."

I chuckled. "Anyway, Harm uses that New Wave stuff. That's the brand name."

"New Wave," Harriet repeated in a lower tone. "Okay, I'll remember that."

"Hey, you two," Vera knocked on the back door. I waved her in. Vera took the seat next to Harriet.

"You want some tea, Vera?" I asked as I handed Harriet her tea cup.

Vera shook her head. "No, thanks, I'm not really one for tea." She peered into the living room. "Where's Jake? We've got to get going."

"He's in Hunter's room with the rest of them," I said sitting down at the table with them. "Why? What's the rush?"

"No rush," Vera replied quickly, an attempted suppressed look of anxiety suddenly overtaking her features. "I just . . . uh, need to get home and check on something."

"Check on what?" I probe. Both Harriet's and my eyes suddenly become lasers burning holes in Vera's story.

Vera exhaled heavily. "If I can use your computer, I'll show you."

The three of us filtered into my home office. Vera took a seat at the swiveling office chair, digging in her pocket till she found her USB, then slipped it into the drive. It took a moment for a series of files to overtake the screen, each as long as the other. But Vera ignored all these and scrolled right to the end of the screen where it read 'Tracking System'. She clicked on this and immediately a dark green grid like thing appeared, the center of which there was a bleeping red triangle labeled 'Clay'.

It took a moment for the scene to register in my mind and then – "You're tracking Clay!" I exclaimed.

"Shh!" Vera pressed, her finger on her lips. "Keep it down, the kids are in the next room."

"You're tracking Clay!" I whisper-screamed.

Vera didn't respond, but instead opened another map which appeared behind the green grid. "That's weird," she whispered almost to herself. "It's like he's in the middle of nowhere."

"How?" My voice resonated. "I mean, how are you tracking him?"

A dull shade of pink managed to creep its way into Vera's cheeks. "I . . . uh . . ."  
"You . . . uh . . ." Harriet prompted.

Vera pushed back a stubborn strand of hair. "I put a tracer in his wallet."

Amusement flashes across my face. "You what?"

"I put a tracer in his wallet," Vera repeated somewhat dumbly.

"How?" There's no stopping my voice as it keeps climbing louder.

"I – I put it in when he wasn't looking," Vera's eyes refused to meet mine.

"How long ago?" Harriet asked.

"A . . . a year." The moment she said it, Vera knew the admission would cost her something. I could see it in her eyes.

"You've been tracing him for a whole year?" The idea seemed to amuse Harriet more than anything else. She smiled, "And you say you don't have feelings for him."

"I don't," Vera fought back stubbornly. "He just goes away so much, I thought . . ."

"You thought you'd see where he was going," I mused aloud. How many times had I been caught out of the loop when Harm was traveling? But still, my mind fought back. Harm was my _husband. _

"I – I just wanted to know," Vera defended herself. "I was sick of not knowing."

And then something clicked in my brain, like the lightbulb above my head suddenly turned on. "Wait a minute, Clay's away?"

"Yeah," Vera replied, as casually as she could possibly sound. "He left this morning."

My eyes fly to Harriet's. "So did Harm."

Harriet's eyebrow shot up. "You think they're working a case together?"

"That can't be common," Vera argued. "The director sits behind a desk unless he has to travel to some meeting or the other. He doesn't actually work cases."

"Unlike Harm does," I said thoughtfully. "Except he's only in intelligence . . . he wouldn't be out on the field. We agreed he wasn't going out on the field."

"Just because Clay and Harm left on the same day doesn't mean they're working together," Harriet suggested meekly. "It could just be a coincidence."

Vera's eyes darkened considerably. "There's no such thing as coincidences within The Company."

"Vera," my voice is sort of soft. "Why did you trace Clay?"

"I told you," Vera turned away. "I wanted to know where he was."

"But why?" I persisted. In reality, I knew why. I just wanted to hear Vera say it.

"Because," was Vera's elaborating statement.

"Because . . .?" Harriet prodded.

"Because I don't know!" Vera whirled around. "I don't know why I put the tracer in Clay's wallet last year, I don't know why I insist on tracking him when he goes off, and I don't know why you're questioning me."

"Isn't it obvious?" Harriet's voice was light and soothing to Vera's agitated temper. "You lo –"

"I do nothing of the sort," Vera cut Harriet off effectively. "Clay and I are over, there is nothing left to salvage. I barely see him, he barely sees me. Believe me, there is nothing between us any more. The fact that he's out in the middle of nowhere should prove that, even if nothing else will."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Middle of Nowhere**

"What's that?" Harm asked from beside Clay as he drove wildly around the rough terrain.

"Portable locator," Clay said, tapping on the screen to access the blue print map.

"Who're you locating?"

Clay ignored the question as the screen loomed up in front of him. He heaved a relieved sigh. The little red triangle marked 'Vera' hovered over the Rabb household.

* * *

**A/N: Again, I'm sorry. I was really trying to update last night, but I only got home around ten and then I wrote about three pages before I started to drift off so I figured I'd just pick up in the morning. I'll try and update TLWL today too. I'm just so lazy and I'm getting a terrible amount of homework (computer restrictions doesn't really help, either)**

**Syraë: **thanks, but that's cool that your house is getting renovated. I'm just buried under a stressful amount of homework. My math teacher possesses an unimaginable amount of cruelty.

**Eggy weg: **thanks, Clay/Vera's fun to write, mostly 'cause there's no restrictions on it, Vera being original and everything.

**Musiclover: **Harm was consoling! Sorry, lol, I haven't updated in so long you probably don't remember what we were talking about, but Harm was comforting Mac after Webb's death. Mac seemed to think that her chances for a family began and ended with Webb, and Harm wanted her to know that he'd always be there for her, whenever she wanted to get something started. It was a very nice shipper moment.

**Abigaile: **thanks, and I'll have more soon.

**Brontesgirl: **thanks, more to come on the Clay/Vera scale! I just gotta collect my bearing before I update TLWL. I'm really lacking when it comes to updates on that story.

**Kyrapura: **Harriet has four kids. Lol, poor her . . . but they're sweet little people, so I can't see how she minds much. I'll try and get another chapter of TLWL out as soon as possible. Famous last words, I know.

**Starryeyes10: **thanks!

**Alex: **lol, yes, Radiorox is a brilliant writer, and RTM is great. How I write little kids well . . . well, my best friend's mother remarried some time ago and now my friend has a four year old little sister who's just the sweetest thing in the world, and I'm always over at their house so I guess I've just gotten used to her. She's very much like Jake, kind of quiet but it seems like she sees everything. And yes, Clay will be in deep when Vera finds out (can keep the women clueless, they're just too good for that).

**BrittanyLS: **lol, I know, don't you just hate it when you start to sympathize with a character you're sworn to hate? I'm not a Webbie, I will not pretend to be one – the animosity I felt towards Webb during the ninth season was incomparable. However, there's really no point in writing him as the villain in this story, I like Abbas so much better.

**MiDushiNoSushi: **yeah, there was really no point in making Clay a manipulator. He may have been a total ass in JAG, but that's just a waste of character considering what he could have been. He could have caused friction in the plot instead of ruining our little HM path, but never mind that, what's done is done. Harm and Mac are together – that's what's important. Lol, I'll just keep telling myself that. But yes, Clay and Vera are . . . um, what do you call it? Reminiscing of the past. That's it. If Jake were alive . . . what would happen?

**Southernqt: **Hmm . . . so are you right about Abbas-or-crony being The Dark Man? Well, you'll see . . . lol, I know I'm taunting, but I really will tell you . . . sooner or later.

**JamieAKAaclassyone: **yes, lol, I think we'd all love for it to be Jake back from the dead, however – considering he's six feet under on the other side of the world, I'm thinking our luck kind of ran out on that one . . .

**Froggy0319: **Yes, there will be some HM Hunter moments like that, not in this chapter cuz I kind of had to finish it in a hurry . . . but it will come. I promise you that.

**Radiorox: **lol, yes, we combine our supernatural evil forces and then we can really send 'em all running for their money.

**Pissed Off Poet 1: **lol, so sorry it took so long. I felt terrible for leaving the update this long, especially cuz I already had two pages typed. But I'll update faster for the next chapter.

**Jaggurl: **oh don't worry, Vera and Mac will figure it out – they're already half way there.

**Prinnie: **lol, yes, I'm just wicked with the updates . . . Dark Man – Abbas or not? You'll find out soon. I can tell you that much. Or well, maybe you won't find out for sure soon – but it'll become pretty clear.

**Dansingwolf: **me like Webb in JAG? Oh no no no no no. I cannot stress that point enough. I was never a Webbie, right after the ninth season I would very literally snarl every time he came on the screen. That was just wicked what DPB did to us shippers in Paraguay. Like, for example, when I first started writing fanfic – EL, my first story – I made Clay bad in the beginning and then I realized he's just too valuable a character to waste. It always seemed like JAG never used him properly, because he had potential. He really did. So I kind of figured I wasn't going to be another Webb-basher. I'm no Webbie – I cheered when Mac slapped him in Hail and Farewell Part II – but it seemed rather cliché to use him as the villain. Especially when he could have been heroic – if used properly.

**Upfire: **thanks! And sorry for the wait, I didn't think it would be long but it turned out to be.

**Major Jagfan: **Anal? . . . that's . . . um, interesting. Uh, I don't think Harm and Mac's kid will be named Anal, but again – interesting name. Now, as for why Harm hasn't told Mac yet – because he knew Mac would want to either come with him to catch Abbas or she wouldn't want him to go. Now, with the first one – that would mean putting Mac's life in jeopardy, which was something he couldn't do. And the second would mean standing back while the safety of his family was put at risk. As for not informing Bud and the Admiral . . . well, they'll all get into it soon. I just kind of wanted to start off slow.

**Strawberry Kittens: **lol, don't worry – Nick is hot as hell, mirror image of his older brother. And he enters soon, I'm just kind of . . . uh, perfecting the entrance. Oh yes, and as for why Clay and Vera broke up . . . well, they just sort of drifted. Clay believed Vera was still in love with Jake, and Vera didn't know what to think.

**FoxyWombat: **lol, you take chemistry? I took that last year and sucked out loud. Or well, okay, I didn't – I scored a 92 on my final, but I had to study unbelievably hard to get it, so I figured it wasn't worth it. I'm just not good at science. My little brain can't comprehend it. Ah, these review replies take me longer than writing the chapter . . .

**TV Angel 711: **awww, thanks! Glad you're liking it.


	5. A Sign From God

**A/N: A week and a half. A whole freaking week and a half. I think that's the longest I've ever gone without updating – excluding like family vacation. I'd tell you all that I've done while not posting (road trip, exam, futile studying for said exam) but that would bore you and I'm thinking right now, you just want to get to the chapter. So here goes . . .**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, Shalimar 2, JeanMary, eggy weg, Brontesgirl, Sakura, and Shelly! If I left anyone out, please let me know. **

**A Sign from God**

**1256**

**The Jeep **

**Harm's POV**

"Hmm," I said thoughtfully, my foot up on the dashboard as Clay swerved the jeep around the sandy road. "Abbas could really be out here."

"I doubt it," Clay retorted quickly, his eyes avoiding mine. "The guards checked, and he was only gone for a minute before the alert sounded. No, I reckon someone was waiting for him. With a Jeep, probably. I don't think a car would keep it together on this rough terrain."

I'm silent.

Clay looked over at me from the driver's side. "Don't worry about it, I doubt he'll come after us."

I could only stare at Clay skeptically.

"It's going to be fine, Harm."

I had become just so accustomed to that statement it scared me. "I suppose," I said dully, running my hands through my hair almost thoughtfully. A deep silence settled between the two of us, and then – "We ever gonna tell the girls?"

Clay paused in thought. "I reckon before we even begin to tell them, they'll have already figured it out."

"Oh yeah?"

Clay shrugged. "Once the news gets ahold of it, they'll run the story through the mill. 'Escaped Prisoner Recaptured'. I can just see it now. Mac and Vera will piece the puzzle together, and there'll be hell to pay for it, but at least it'll be all over."

"So you're confident we'll get Abbas?" I asked sort of rhetorically.

"We will." The coolness of his remark was not lost on me. "Or someone will. But Abbas won't go free. He's too dangerous for that."

* * *

**Middle of the Night**

**Rabb and Mackenzie Residence**

**Mac's POV**

"_Mommy! MOMMY!"_

I heave a tired sigh, my eyelids cracking open to the darkness of night. I sat up a little in bed. "Hunter?"

"I saw The Dark Man, Mommy!" Hunter's positively frantic. I try to pick him up but he's squirming too much. "He was there, Mommy, make him go away!"

"Hunter, shhh, you've got to calm down." This time I scoop him up from under his feet and he loops his arms around my neck, shaking as he did so. Boy, was he scared. He was as pale as ghost. "Shh, Hunter, The Dark Man won't get you. You're safe here."

Hunter shook his head. "He's EVERYWHERE."

"Hunter," I explained patiently. "The Dark Man isn't real."

"Yes, he is!" Indignation floods into his voice. "He is, he's in my room!"

I was far too exhausted to do The Dark Man check that Harm usually did and obviously too tired to debate with my four year old. I sighed, flopping back onto the bed, my head hitting the pillow snugly. It was hard imagining any other kid to be as wildly imaginative as Hunter was – I know little kids are notoriously known for their make-believe friends, but this is taking it to the _extreme_. I rolled over to face Hunter, "Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?"

Hunter jumped at the chance, rolling onto Harm's pillow beside me. "'Kay."

"But only because your Daddy's away," I warned him, already feeling slumber subduing me. "He won't have any of this nonsense if he's here. Do you understand?"

Silence.

I look over and Hunter's already fast asleep. I shrug my shoulders, and quickly fall into step with him, not giving another moment's thought to the infamous Dark Man. Harm will take care of it, I thought. Or Hunter will just simply grow out of it. And with that, the topic simply slipped from my mind.

That was my mistake.

* * *

**1423**

**Redgate Prison**

**Clay's POV**

"His name's Kyle Werner," the guard said, holding open the door to the conference room for us. Both Harm and I filed in. "He was Abbas's cellmate. Abbas might have told him how or where he escaped to. They were close."

I shook my head. "Abbas isn't close to anyone. If they looked like friends, Abbas was using him."

"Well, I guess you'd know," the guard said, shaking his head. "Looked like friends to me." He tapped the mini walkie-talkie on his uniform. "Bring in Prisoner 87253." He turned back to us, his hand on the doorknob. "Call if there's any trouble. There will be two guards outside the door and I'll be just down the hall."

"Sure," Harm said as from through the other entrance Kyle Werner entered. We both turned to the guard as he left and then to each other. "Sit down, Mr. Werner," Harm said politely.

"Why? I didn't do nuthin," Werner spat as he sat down on the seat across the table from us. "It's my mate you should be after, not me."

"Your mate, huh?" I asked, taking a seat too. Harm remained standing. "Sounds like you guys were close."

Werner turned away from us, his dark eyes flipping over to the opposite wall. He was about Harm's height with a more muscly build, and shrewd black eyes. He was convicted for three accounts of rape. "When I said 'mate', I meant cellmate."

"But you didn't answer my question, Mr. Werner," I said calmly.

"It weren't a question," Werner spat.

I exhaled frustrated. "Well, now it is. Were you and Abbas friends?"

"Do I get time off for helping you guys?" Werner asked, his eyes leaping up to Harm's. Harm looked inquisitively at me, his eyes asking the same question Werner had.

"We'll see if we can cut a deal on your behalf," I said patiently. "But first, we need to know what you know."

Werner shook his head in disgust. "Damn lawyers."

"I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Werner." My eyes cut the glass between us. "I will do all I can to get years off your sentence if you are able to provide us with reliable information on your escaped cellmate."

"Why should I trust you?" Werner challenged. "You don't care two cents about me."

I ground my teeth heatedly. "You're right, I don't, but I do care about a murderer going free. And if you know anything, I need to know too."

Werner exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Damn religious freak."

"Abbas?" Harm asked, his eyebrow cocked up to the sky.

"Yeah," Werner said, rolling his eyes. "Prayed every night before he went to bed, read that damned script so much I can probably recite it from memory. Talked in his sleep of it too. Like I said," Werner shook his head, "freak."

"Abbas?" Amazement creeps into my voice. "Religious?"

"Either that or loony tunes," Werner said. "Embrace thy enemy, my ass."

"What did you say?" I asked. I've pulled out my notebook as has Harm. "Embrace thy . . . what?"

"Enemy," Werner spat. "That's what his script said. Embrace thy enemy, cherish his weakness. Where mortality thrives be common with all."

Harm's eyes flew to me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," I whispered. I turned back to Werner. "Is there anything else? Anything more the script said – or that Abbas said? Did he talk of escaping?"

"Everyone talks of escaping," Werner said bluntly. "Everyday, even. But not that man. He was content to sit in his cell and breathe the script under his breath. And then he would pray some more. I thought he was insane."

"He was sane enough to escape," Harm pointed out. "Do you know how he did it?"

"Sure," Werner said. "Change of the guards – we're transported from the cafeteria to our cells. Nearly everyone's tried it – slipping out of line. Only Abbas got away with it, though. He was so small and quiet no one paid much attention to him – not even me, and he's my mate. He'd never tried to escape before either, which made it all the more surprising. One second he was there, then he wasn't."

"And the guard at the entrance was found stabbed," I whispered. "Knife from the kitchen?"

"They don't let us have knives," Werner shook his head. "Too dangerous. No, I don't know where he got the knife from. Never saw him with one."

"Where is this script that you were talking about?" Harm asked. "Is it still in your cell?"

"No," Werner replied solidly. "Looked for it after he disappeared. Thought maybe he'd written a note to me or something with it, it was the only paper he had. But it was gone, must've taken it with him."

"Must have," I breathed slowly. I stood up. "Well, thank you, Mr. Werner. You've been of a great help to us. I'll talk to the state, see what I can do for you."

"Look, even if you can't get any years off," Werner interjected quickly, "Could you at least ask if I can have a single cell? For myself? I don't wanna get stuck with another mental case."

"I'll try," I said, as Harm opened up the door. As soon as we were outside, Harm turned to me, "So what do you think?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "Werner seemed for real, then again . . . this is Abbas."

"You think he's gone crazy?" Harm asked.

"Who knows?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Prison can do weird things to people."

Harm's blue eyes penetrated my reluctance. "And you'd know this how?"

I pulled away from his stare as I set off down the hall. "I don't want to talk about it."

Harm knew better than to push the matter. "So what now, Boss?"

I sighed heavily, flipping my sunglasses from off the top of my forehead and onto the bridge of my nose. "We wait."

"For . . . ?" Harm prodded.

"A sign from God."

* * *

**1548**

**Courtroom Eight**

**Mac's POV**

"And _furthermore_," I stretched, my eyes boring holes into that of the jurors. "The only witness to said crime was _drunk _at the time. His senses were dulled, his memory of the night undoubtedly suffered, yet he is able to remember exactly what happened to Petty Officer Randal? These questions and more should be enough to provide reasonable doubt . . ."

_Creak._

I looked up to see Petty Officer Coates making her way over to the Defense Bench. I saw the look in her eyes, this alarmed almost panicked look and I felt my heart beat triple in speed. "Petty Officer Randall has been nothing but a . . . but a good officer . . ." I falter as Jen motions me over, waving her arms madly. "A reliable sailor, dedicated to serving his . . . his country and . . . and your, honor, may I have a second?"

The Judge glared at me. "I don't like this Colonel."

I kept seeing this vision of Harm, his body sprawled out on the pavement with blood soaking the ground. _No, please, no, _was my silent beg. I bit my lower lip as I rushed over to Jen. _Not Harm. I can't lose Harm. _

"What's wrong? What's happened?" The questions fly quickly out of my mouth. "Is Harm okay?"

"He's fine, ma'am," Petty Officer quickly eases my spousal worry. "At least, to the extent of my knowledge he is."

I put a hand over my chest, my worry subsiding. "Oh, thank god." My eyes flip back to Jen's. "Then what's wrong?"

Jen sucks in a quick breath as I feel my heart plummet. "It's . . . it's your son, ma'am. You see, Hunter . . . he's missing."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Car**

**No POV**

"Dammit, Malhar, he's just a freaking kid," the driver complained, his eyes glistening frantically. "What if we're caught by the police? His parents are a lawyer and a spook. They'll have our heads on a silver platter before the end of the day."

"Shut up, idiot," Malhar shot back, laying Hunter's unmoving form full length on the back seat. "What color did the Master want it?"

"Blonde," the driver said, steering the car into the other lane. "And be quick about it. If the cops check our car as we're crossing the state . . ."

"They can't have the amber alert out yet," Malhar shot back. At least, he hoped not. He placed a bowl underneath the preschooler's head and emptied a thermos flask of water onto his forehead. This was going to be messy. Slowly, he began to smooth the blonde dye onto his head, cringing as water slopped onto his lap with the fast turning car. "Dammit, slow down, Farid."

"We've got a kidnapped kid in the backseat," Farid hissed through gritted teeth. "I just want to hand him off to the Master and get the hell out."

"That makes the both of us," Malhar replied as the car veered off the highway and onto an old road made rough by its age. "Let's just pray the kid doesn't come to."

* * *

**A/N: Wow, a hundred reviews and four chapters. You guys honestly rock. I'm sorry for making this chapter as short as it is, but I figured that you guys would at least want _something _considering I haven't updated in ages. Oh yes, and I finally saw the episode 'San Diego' on reruns this week! I hadn't seen it before. Now seriously, how scummy is Vukovic? Jesus.**

**Starryeyes10: **thanks!

**Shelly: **lol, well you're not an anonymous peep anymore! I'm flattered you think this story is good. Seriously, it means a lot to me.

**JeanMary: **I know, I've been meaning to update TLWL for the longest time. I just sort of feel sucked dry on that story. Don't worry, I'll do my best to update tomorrow. I know those are famous last words, but I've been feeling really badly about neglecting that story, so count on an update within the next few days if not tomorrow.

**Strawberry Kittens: **lol, okay, I'll make it a point to kill Abbas.

**MarineJAG: **well, not as long a chapter as I would have liked to get out, but I guess it'll have to do for now. I swear, homework's killing me. I'll keep the names you suggested in mind, and don't feel bad about the broken resolution – if I had a dime for every promise I made to myself that I broke . . . well, I could probably buy JAG off of DPB.

**Musiclover: **oh no no no no – Harm put Mac's feelings before his when it came to Webb's death. Harm could have shut himself away from the world to deal with it but he knew that Mac had to come first so he helped her resolve her feelings before he turned to confront his own. And Webb – an outstanding friend? He took Harm's girl, endangered Harm's life countless times, and all this while being a total ass. I'm sorry, I do believe that Webb got the ending on JAG he deserved. Now, me trying something for publication . . . well, I've thought about it – but my life's kind of busy at the moment. Big exams are coming up which will pretty much decide which high school I go to, so I'm really concentrating on doing well. Maybe in a year or two.

**Syrae: **awww, thanks. But still, think about how your house will look after it's renovated! I think that's pretty neat.

**Southernqt: **thanks, and more to come. I promise.

**Alix33: **I'm pretty sure I said so as early as the second chapter . . . and if not the second, definitely the third. I mean, I've already had some odd number of reviews with name suggestions. Lol, I may not have been too clear though.

**BrittanyLS: **yes, lol, I love that saying. Fortunately for me, I have no real-life enemies. I like to keep a low profile.

**MiDushiNoSushi: **aw, I'm making you like Clay? Heheh, I know that's a hard thing to do. Believe me, I hate JAG's Clay as well. Mine's so much better (not to brag or anything, but then again – ANY Clay was better than JAG's Clay). lol, don't worry though on the VC shipper scale . . . this story's just beginning (I'm angling for twenty chapters – but then again, on FT I was looking at 30 in the beginning, and you saw how many more chapters I got).

**Eggy Weg: **lol, well . . . the story will get more in depth. This is just the beginning.

**Brontesgirl: **aww, thanks, and here's another chapter for you!

**Mackenise Jackson: **Thanks! And I hope you liked this chapter too.

**JamieAKAaclassyone: **yes, me too, actually. I cheered so loudly in Hail and Farewell Part I when I thought he was dead . . . again. But I like my Clay better. My Clay has feelings.

**Radiorox: **I find it just as twisted as you do. We suck, we rock, they bitch, they praise . . . I say multiple personalities.

**Abigaile: **yes, lol, sweet in a creepy way. That's exactly how I'd put it.

**TV Angel 711: **lol, thanks! More to come!

**Sakura: **sorry for the sort of slow update. I'll try and get better, it was my geography test that killed me. But I suppose you don't want to hear about that. More to come, I promise.

**Pissed Off Poet 1: **well, yes, I suppose that does show they do still care about each other. Lol, I'm planning my VC shipper moments very carefully here.

**Jaggurl: **yeah, it is cute, isn't it? lol, sort of how Mac and Harm first were.

**Dansingwolf: **lol, yes, Renee was 'layered' and completely interesting. But that didn't stop me from hating her. I mean, come on, I'm a diehard shipper here – I'd be _shunned _if I didn't hate her. Brumby, actually, amused me. He was so . . . I don't know quite how you put it, but some of the stuff he said was just so STUPID. I mean, I know Renee did those kind of things to, but Brumby actually ACTED smart which was what got me cracked up. And then the animosity between him and Harm . . . yes, the fifth and sixth seasons were fun. Vukovic, however . . . I have never felt so much repulsion for one man (not even Webb in the ninth season – and mind you, I would internally gag every time he came on the screen). I mean, DPB was actually going to replace Harm with Vukovic. Talk about wrong. Alright, now for your various questions . . . do Jake and Hunter get along well even though they're different? I'd have to say yes because I'm a firm believer that opposites attract. They're just like me and my best friend. She's so quiet and I can't shut up. And I know you asked this question a while ago, but I forgot to answer it. How did Harm know about Hunter's name – well, Vera visited Mac in the hospital the night before where Mac told her his name was Hunter, and so though I never wrote the scene, I guess Harm just learned it from Vera.

**Tizy: **lol, yes, caffeine makes me crazy too. I went to a party last night (cut me some slack, we just finished our exams, I needed a break) and had like four Cokes. I don't think I've ever been more hyper.

**FoxyWombat: **lol, me an updating writer? Well, there's a laugh! But I know exactly where you're coming from. I had tests this week, it was terrible. But then I partied on Friday 'cause we were done, so I can't really complain much. I'll update more now. Just do what I do when homework starts mounting, breathe in . . . and out . . . it keeps me sane.

**Shalimar2: **yes, lol, it's exactly something two spooks would do. Nope, no calling each other. No cellphones needed. Just tracers . . .

**Froggy0319: **lol, do you know you're always the first person to review? I mean seriously, I can't remember how many times I've opened up my email to find your review first in line. I thought I just had to point that out. Oh yes, and a Pants and Mac showdown, I'll keep that in mind.


	6. Bless the Missing Boy

1**A/N: Alright, say it with me – HOMEWORK SUCKS! Someone needs to drill this into the Iceman (my geography teacher)'s head. (Major apologies if you're reading this, sir . . .)**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, Shalimar 2, JeanMary, eggy weg, Brontesgirl, Sakura, Shelly, and missymiek! If I left anyone out, please let me know. **

_**Flashback to 'A Sign From God'**_

_Jen sucks in a quick breath as I feel my heart plummet. "It's . . . it's your son, ma'am. You see, Hunter . . . he's missing."_

**Bless the Missing Boy**

**1312**

**Hildegard Marsdon Preschool**

**Mac's POV**

"Hunter!" My screams echo in my ears as I run through the hallways of the preschool. This wild frenzy takes over me. "Hunter!" I scream again. "Hunter!"

"Ms. Mackenzie."

I whirl around. There's Hunter's teacher, pale as a ghost standing there trembling. I can see the anxiety in her eyes, the tears that dribble down her cheeks and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

"Where's Hunter?" I holler at her. My heart beats rapidly within my chest and my breathing goes ragged. All I can see is my baby boy hurt or injured or maybe dead at the side of the road. I close my eyes fighting to keep the tears in. My voice shaking, I whispered, "Where's my son?"

In a split second the young woman was crying. "I'm so sorry," she wailed incessantly. "There were just so many kids . . . and then one of them fell over and she was crying and I turned around for just one second. Just one to help her up and then the next thing I knew Jacob Webb was hollering. When I turned around I saw this van ripping down the road and Hunter was nowhere to be seen . . ." Tears poured thickly down her face. "I swear this has never happened before . . ."

I don't even let her finish her sentence. I'm running down the hall. The school is in absolute mayhem. There are three cop cars parked outside as well as the dozens of parents coming to collect their kids. All the parents were called in since Hunter went missing. I'm trembling too violently for anything. _My baby . . ._

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

I whirl around to come face to face with a cop. He's at least a head taller than me with burly blonde hair and a muscular build. He looks on sympathetically with me. "Are you the mother of the lost child?"

I suck in a long breath, willing myself to stop shaking. "Yes," I whispered.

"I'm going to need to talk with you and get your statements . . ." the cop began but he is cut off by –

"Mac!"

I turn around and I see Vera trying to cut through the crowd of parents to get over to me. She comes up next to me, exhaling tiredly. "Man, I'm certainly glad there's not this many parents here when I drop off Jake in the morning. Listen, why don't you get Hunter and we'll meet at the mall or something for the rest of the afternoon. Jake needs new shoes and . . ."

And then suddenly she stops. She looks at the cop who's just pulled out his notebook, and then sees me standing there and the alarm on my face. She puts two and two together. "Oh my god," she whispered palely. "It's not . . . Hunter?"

I can't hold it in any longer. Tears stream down my face as I cling to Vera for support. His face kept flashing before my eyes, alive with pleasure – eyes dancing in glee. He's only four. He's too young to die. "H-he's . . . he's gone, Vera," I cried into her shoulder. "He's gone."

Harriet comes up beside us. "What's going – ?" she began and then Vera shook her head.

"It was Hunter," Vera whispered dryly. "The kid that went missing . . . it's Hunter."

Harriet's immediately by my side. "That can't be," she repeated over and over again. "It can't be Hunter. It can't be."

God, how I wished that were true. The cop just kind of stood there awkwardly as Vera and Harriet hugged me from either side. You could tell he didn't really know what to do. I released a shaky breath and turned back to him. "You'll need my statement," I said slowly walking over to where the other cops were. "To find him."

The man nodded as Harriet and Vera followed me. "It'll only take a second." He stared concernedly at me. "Are you . . . um, alright enough to do this interview?"

I wiped my eyes fervently on the back of my sleeve. "Yes," I said nodding, trying to make myself believe it. "Yes, I am."

The cop nodded, taking out his notebook. "Your son's name is . . .?"

"Hunter Rabb," I said slowly.

"And he is how old?"

"Four."

"And the last time you saw him was . . ." the cop trailed.

"Nine o'clock this morning," I breathed shakily, wrapping my arms around my waist in a sort of self hug. "I dropped him off at that time."

"Okay," the cop said jotting that down. "Now, what do you do and what does your husband do?" He stared pointedly at my uniform. "I take it you're in the military."

"Yes," I said nodding. "I'm a Marine in the JAG Corps. I'm a lawyer."

The cop nodding, his pen flying over his paper. "And your husband?"

I sucked in a deep breath. I was never prepared for this question. "He's . . . he's with the government."

The policeman just stared at me.

"You know . . ." I said, waving my hands elaboratingly. "_The government . . ."_

The cop stared pointedly at me. "CIA, huh?" I stared down at the ground, determined not to answer. He sighed, "Do you or your husband have any enemies that might have prompted a kidnapping?"

_Where do I begin? _"Um . . . well, sort of," I said, trying my hardest to think. "But, nearly all the people I've put in jail are still there as far as I know. As for Harm – my husband – well, we don't really talk about his work all that often. But if we were in danger, I know he'd tell me. And the only real enemy that we both share is locked up in Redgate Prison. Anything other than that, I couldn't tell you."

"Redgate Prison?" another cop leaned over, his eyebrow cocked. "The one out some odd miles from here? Nothing even remotely close to it?"

"Uh, yeah," I said sort of nervously. "That's the one."

That cop flashed the one I'd been talking to a look I couldn't decipher.

"What?" I asked, my eyes shifting between the two of them. "What's wrong?"

"Ma'am," the policeman said gently. "Did you watch the news last night?"

I'm more nervous than anything now. "No . . ." I trailed, looking at Vera and Harriet who promptly shrugged in response. "Why?"

Both men looked at me in disbelief. "Two days ago, a convict broke out. They have yet to catch him. His face is on every news channel in the country . . ." He continued to stare at me. "You didn't know?"

"No . . ." I'm trembling now. "Do you . . . do you have a picture?"

The man reached into the police car and drew an 8 by 10 mug shot out of the glove compartment. He handed it to me, "Does this man look familiar to you?"

It took one long second for me to recognize him. His eyes looked even darker in the photo, his hair longer and shaggier, and his features even more pronounced. I shook all over. All I could think was _Harm left yesterday, Hunter's missing and now . . . _I cast a terrified look at the photograph, _and now He's out . . ._

I felt Vera shift next to me, her eyes taking in the photograph. It took less than a second for her skin to turn a sheet-white color. "Oh, my god," she whispered faintly. "Oh, my god."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Redgate Prison**

**Harm's POV**

"So where do we go now?" I asked Clay as I opened the door to his jeep and Clay jumped in the driver's seat. "Back home?"

Clay flashed me an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? Our trip's just begun."

I stared at him. "But he's not here . . . not anywhere on the ground. The guards are checking."

Clay sighed admittedly. "Well, I didn't really think he would be here anyway. If Abbas broke out, it was obviously very planned and deliberate. I just needed to make sure he wasn't anywhere here before we went to look elsewhere." Clay pulled the gear into shift. "What we do have, now, is a list of all the people that in some way contacted Abbas during his time in prison. Hopefully we'll be able to follow the leads upon that."

My mind swam. "You think he had an accomplice?"

Clay responded slowly. "Probably more. There was no way Abbas managed to shut the electricity off himself, and he didn't just conjure up an escape vehicle out of thin air. No, he definitely had allies – and they would have had to talk to him sometime while he was in Redgate."

I was dubious. "Wouldn't Abbas have thought of that?"

Clay was silent for a long moment. "Yes," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the road. "But to a desperate man, even the most insecure plot is better than nothing at all."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hildegard Marsdon Preschool**

**Vera's POV**

"They knew," I'm seething. I can feel the heat emanating from within my skin. "Harm and Clay knew. That's why they left yesterday. They found out Abbas had escaped and they went to go find him."

Mac does not dwell upon the 'uninformed' detail but instead is frantically punching buttons into her cell phone. "Dammit, Harm, pick up . . ." Her voice shook madly. "Pick up!" She threw the phone down in disgust. "He said he would leave it on in case anything would happen!" she cried. "But I keep getting this out of area signal."

I've whipped my handheld GPS locator out of my purse and switch it to 'Clay' mode. Instantly a mapping screen pops up with Clay's symbol gleaming red. I exhaled heatedly. The little red triangle hover over 'Redgate Prison'. "Damn you," I whispered.

Mac just sat on the hood of the police car, head in her hands and not looking up. "They're there, aren't they?" Mac whispered, her voice shaking. "Harm and Clay?"

I hadn't the heart to lie. "Yes," I whispered. I turned back to the mapping screen. "And they're moving, so I guess they're in a vehicle of some sort."

"They're coming back home?" Mac asked hopefully.

I shook my head. "They're heading west . . . I don't know where they're going." I watched as Mac fell into a depressing sort of silence. My eyes kept flipping between Mac and the GPS screen. And then an idea came to me.

"Let's go to them," I whispered suddenly, shaking Mac's arm lightly.

She looked up at me bewilderedly. "What?"

"Let's go to them," I repeated more strongly. "We can follow them using the GPS and this time we won't have to wait for something to happen. We can follow them, catch Abbas, and save Hunter." I'm so carried away I give Mac no time to speak. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, just as the sun sets. I doubt Harm and Clay will get much farther today, they'll have to sleep and eat somewhere."

"But – but what about Jake?" Mac asked. "What are you going to do with him?"

My eyebrows furrowed. My son – the one hitch in the plan. "I'll leave him with Clay's mom," I said with finality. "She's been asking to visit him anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Plus," I added with a whisper. "It'll be safer if he isn't . . . here."

I had suddenly realized just how much danger my son could possibly be in. I pulled away from Mac and Harriet. "Jake?" I called, running over to the room where they were keeping the remaining kids who were to be picked up. "Jake, honey, where are you?"

"Mommy!" I watched my son call gleefully as he sprang into my arms the second I entered the room. I shifted his weight from my right arm to my left so I could sign him out on the student sheet his teacher had given to me and promptly exited the room. Mac and Harriet were still waiting outside, conversing in low tones.

"Well?" I asked, as I walked back to them.

Mac flashed Harriet a suppressing glare and then, "Yeah, I'm in." She grinned ruefully at me. "You knew I would be."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I had a suspicion."

Harriet cast an angry look at the ground. "I wish I could go."

"You're needed here," Mac whispered soothingly just as the twins – Hallie and Harmon – ran up to meet Harriet, their harassed looking teacher running after them with the student checklist clipboard. At the sight of them Mac seemed to choke up a bit.

"What's wrong, Aunt Mac?" Jake asked innocently from within my arms. Man, that kid had like sensors for these kind of things. He was like Clay in that way, he could see what most others couldn't. But then again, though Clay could see beyond typical human vision, he was blind to most things that others weren't. I didn't want Jake being like that.

Tears were staining Mac's cheeks again but her Marine bravado forced them back in. "Nothing, kiddo," Mac whispered, fondly ruffling Jake's copper curls. She turned back to me sighing, "do you um . . . well, do you mind if I stay with you tonight?" Mac breathed shakily. "With Harm and . . . and Hunter gone, I just really don't want to be by myself in the house."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," I nodded encouragingly. I turned to my baby boy who sat patiently in my arms. "How would you like Aunt Mac to stay at our place tonight, huh?" I whispered. Jake nodded enthusiastically in response and I rubbed noses with him in an Eskimo kiss kind of way.

I turned back to Mac, "So, do you want to double back to your place, get a suitcase packed, and then come over to my place then tomorrow morning we can drop Jake off at Clay's mother's house then start out?"

Mac nodded, rubbing her eyes furiously again. "That sounds good."

"Okay," I breathed. I turned back to Harriet who was fumbling with the twins' lunch bags. "I'll see you soon, 'kay?"

"Yeah," Harriet replied as we all headed out to the parking lot. Fumbling with my keys, I opened up the door and slid Jake into the backseat and then plopped myself up in the driver's seat. I pulled out of the parking lot slowly and drove down the scenic streets until we hit the highway. Jake was silent.

I stared at him in the little reflection mirror. "Is everything okay, Jake?"

He was silent, neither nodding or shaking his head. This was abnormal. Jake was quiet, but he always communicated through head movements. I began to get worried. "Jake? Jake, is something wrong?"

He took a long silent breath and then, "Mommy, is Hunter going to be okay?"

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that Jake knew what was going on. He was a smart kid, with Clay's keen senses and my intellect. But then again, he _was _only three. "Yes," I whispered, nodding my head in reassurance. "I'm sure Hunter's fine."

Jake's silence continued. I drove on down the highway, shifting lanes. I stared at him again, his paleness was starting to worry me. "Why?" I asked looking around at him. "Is there something you know?"

Jake said nothing.

"Please, Jake," I whispered to him insistently. We pulled into our driveway and I opened up the door to let him out, kneeling before him and holding him so he faced me. "If you know anything that will help Hunter you've got to tell me." He just stared at me. "Did . . . did Hunter say anything to you before he disappeared? Did you see anyone hanging around the play area? Did you see who took Hunter, Jake?"

Jake's misty grey eyes flipped up to meet mine. "It was The Dark Man, Mommy," he whispered almost inaudibly. "He took Hunter."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, here's the info on the updating thing. I am really trying here guys, but my days are jam packed. I'll try and get another chapter out over the weekend, along with maybe a chapter of TLWL, for those who read it. I can't make any promises, though. Midterm exams coming up. **

**Ah, Harry Potter movie is also coming out . . . of course, can't see how this effects me much considering I'm not going to the premier . . . my little sister is though. Yes, my parents bought HER a ticket and not me - AND SHE HASN'T READ ONE STINKING BOOK. Am I a little mad? Yes, I think so. **

**disneygirl1962: **yeah, sorry about the whole updating thing. School's been real busy.

**Dansingwolf: **you know what I really can't get about Vukovic, though? I mean, he was trying to replace Harm. That was what DPB wanted to happen, I can understand that. He felt DJE was getting too old and he wanted to replace him with whatever-Vukovic's-real-name is. But if they're going to do that, why make Vukovic such a jerk? Because that's what he really was – he was a slimeball and a jerk. And here's Harm the saint, obviously who are we going to prefer? Like seriously, that was stupid of DPB. Really stupid.

**Southernqt: **lol, sorry about the long wait. Hopefully I'll be able to update sooner.

**Kyrapura: **Hunter was at school when he got kidnaped. Lol, I'm really prolonging this Dark Man thing.

**BrittanyLS: **lol, I second that.

**MidushiNoSushi:** thanks, and I hope I'll get you another chapter soon!

**Strawberry Kittens: **lol, you like Coffee Crisps? Omg, I can't stand them. No one in my family can. On the other hand, I'm like madly in love with Crispee Crunch Bars. They rock. Hmm . . . new HM story coming out with an awesome plot line? Loving the sound of that.

**Radiorox: **Yeah, it's true. I haven't had a bad review in . . . omg, it's been weeks. This never happens. I swear, all my haters have banded together and are conspiring against me. It's just way too quiet. Lol, paranoid much?

**Mackenise Jackson: **lol, I know. Isn't he?

**Abigaile: **lol, if only Harm and Mac had had you alongside them when Hunter got kidnapped. You could have saved them a lot of anguish.

**Starryeyes10: **thanks!

**Musiclover: **yeah, my tests will determine which high school I go to. And considering I'm not a terribly bright kid, I figure I really should do well on these things. The only thing I can do is write, which isn't much help on tests. They never test how well you write, just if you can identify all the parts of the sentence or something to that effect. And, in one of my rather more mature moments, I'm going to call a truce on our little Harm-Webb war. Let's just say they both rock in their own ways and be done with it.

**Brontesgirl: **aww, thanks. And I know my updating schedule sucks, but I'll really try and get a chapter out by this weekend.

**Missymiek: **aww, thanks. And I haven't a clue how I could let Hunter get kidnaped! He's the sweetest little thing.

**Syrae: **lol, your house must look wonderful now. Man, I wish my parents would renovate our house. I mean, my room's okay and everything, but that's cuz I made an effort to make it look good. The rest of the house . . .well, it could use a little work.

**JamieAKAaclassyone: **well, I sort of looked at Vukovic as a male version of Singer. I mean, you could live with him . . . but you'd rather live without him. No one particularly liked him but they put up with him. He had the same sort of attitude – one of superiority. But he had no chance with Mac. Seriously, Mac saw right through his egotistical mind and deduced he was lacking in intelligence – which we all knew anyway. Ah well, what can I say? I'm not a Vukovic fan. I can't believe any shipper really is, but I'm not the biggest Vukovic hater, anyway. I shall reserve my hatred for a much worthier opponent.

**Froggy0319: **well how's this – after their latest little escapade is over I'll give you some real good quality family Rabb time. Yes? No?

**Jaggurl: **lol, I know I made you wait. I'll try not to do that again (it'll probably end up happening, but hey - I can try).

**FoxyWombat: **lol, so you also sense the onslaught of cliffhangers? Well, I didn't end this chapter with much of a cliffhanger . . . more to come though. God, I love writing cliffhangers. They're just so fun.

**TV Angel 711: **lol, yes, I suppose Harm will flip . . . when he finds out . . . mwahahahah

**Pissed Off Poet 1: **yes, I do believe they will learn it the hard way. Omg, can you imagine when the other kid comes along and starts having imaginary friends? I think Harm and Mac will flip.


	7. Forgotten Relations

**A/N: hey, I did get to update this weekend! Well what do you know, I surprise myself greatly. Oh, keep your fingers crossed (for me, that is). Progress reports this week. Why you should care: bad grades for me means less and less already scarcely updated chapters.**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, Shalimar 2, JeanMary, eggy weg, Brontesgirl, Sakura, Shelly, missymiek, michelle UK and BritneySucks! If I left anyone out, please let me know.**

_**Flashback to 'Bless the Missing Boy'**_

"_Please, Jake," I whispered to him insistently. We pulled into our driveway and I opened up the door to let him out, kneeling before him and holding him so he faced me. "If you know anything that will help Hunter you've got to tell me." He just stared at me. "Did . . . did Hunter say anything to you before he disappeared? Did you see anyone hanging around the play area? Did you see who took Hunter, Jake?"_

_Jake's misty grey eyes flipped up to meet mine. "It was The Dark Man, Mommy," he whispered almost inaudibly. "He took Hunter."_

**Forgotten Relations**

**1736**

**Azhad Residence**

**Vera's POV**

"The Dark Man?" I whispered, holding Jake close to me. Jake simply stared at me with those penetrating eyes he'd inherited from his father while I contemplated the name. "The Dark Man?" I repeated again. I turned back to Jake. "Who is he?"

Jake stared down at the ground again, shifting his weight from different feet.

"Oh, please, Jake, you have to tell me," I whispered insistently, stroking his hair softly. I tipped his chin up so his eyes met mine. "You want to help Hunter, don't you?" I pleaded with him.

Jake nodded in response.

"Well, then you have to tell me," I whispered softly. Jake remained silent. I sighed discontentedly, getting off my kneeling position on the driveway and opening the front door up with my keys. I lead Jake in, throwing my bag down on the floor and kicking away our mess of shoes at the front closet. Jake followed suit. And then –

"I don't know who he is," Jake said quietly. I whirled around to face him. He just sat on the staircase, staring at his shoes as he tried his best to undue the laces I'd fastened tightly. "But he's the Dark Man."

I knelt down beside Jake and helped him untie his shoes. It seemed very odd, my having a conversation with Jake. I know how that sounds, and I know other parents probably have a million conversations with their kids every day. I bet they even have problems shutting their kid up. But talking with Jake – like, REALLY talking with Jake – was something completely new to me. "And how do you know he's the Dark Man?"

Jake was silent in thought as he put his shoes in the rather large pile and then slipped out of his socks as well. "Hunter told me."

"Hunter told you, huh?" I whispered in thought. My mind flew back to two weeks ago when Mac had told me Hunter had been having strange nightmares. The Dark Man? My thoughts were interrupted by my son clambering up into my arms.

"Did I do good, Mommy?" he asked innocently.

I smiled waterily at him. "The best."

Jake grinned with such brilliance for a split second I was reminded of Clay. I don't even know why, Clay doesn't smile. "They can find Hunter now?"

My voice cracked. "Uh huh."

Jake jumped down from my arms and ran into the living room. A split second later the unique sounds of Bugs Bunny and Tweety played throughout the house. I sighed, and entered the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher into the open cupboard doors. It really struck me right then how much three years had changed me. Three years ago I would have been living in a small apartment watching old James Bond films in my spare time. Now every available non-working moment was spent either cooking or cleaning or watching over/playing with Jake. To my single-mom exterior, three years ago I was practically a refugee.

_Knock. Knock._

"It's open, Mac," I said from the kitchen as Mac promptly let herself in. She had with her a small suitcase which she placed by the pile of shoes before walking over to me. I cast an anxious glance at her. "How are you doing?"

Mac was quiet for a real long moment. "Not bad considering . . ." her eyes finished her sentence.

"I'll be okay," I whispered encouragingly, finishing up with the dishwasher and now starting on preparing a salad for dinner. "They'll find Hunter. He'll be back home in no time. Just wait."

Mac took a long breath in and nodded, though I could tell she really didn't believe it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her touch her hand lightly over her stomach, and I was reminded once more that Mac was pregnant. At least if Hunter never returned . . .

_Don't think that! _I mentally screamed at myself. Hunter will come back, everything will go back to normal. It's just like what I told Mac not a few seconds ago. The cops will find him in no time. Years from now it will all seem like a very hazy dream . . . and I don't believe half the bull I try and pass off.

"Do you know The Dark Man?" I asked abruptly, pausing my slicing of cucumber to look up at Mac who was sitting at the kitchen table, her gaze lingering on the wall above the refrigerator.

"Huh?" Mac's eyes flipped up to meet mine. "What did you say?"

I returned to slicing cucumbers. "It might be nothing," I said slowly, the knife in my hand still chopping. "But, well . . . I was talking to Jake about Hunter and he said something sort of strange. I – well, I asked him if he knew who took Hunter and he said The Dark Man. Now," I began quickly, "it might be nothing. I mean, Jake is only three years old. But I was just wondering . . ."

"The Dark Man," Mac repeated dully. Her brown eyes had widened, her skin suddenly a deadly pale. "You did say – The Dark Man?"

"Yes," I said, now somewhat nervously. "That's what Jake said."

Mac put her hand to her mouth and just sat there for a moment, staring at the floor with this completely lost look on her face. I cast a long anxious glance at her. "Mac?" I whispered walking over to her. She said nothing. "Mac?"

It took me a real long minute for me to realize that she was crying. Long silent tears streamed down her cheeks and she made no move to wipe them. Head held in her hands, she simply sat there. "Oh, my god," she choked. "Oh, my god."

"Why? What? You know what he's talking about?" I demanded instantly, sitting next to her at the table.

Mac didn't respond. She just simply sat there, tears hot and salty against her cheeks, staring at the wall. "The Dark Man . . ." she whispered, shaking her head. "The Dark Man."

_Knock. Knock._

I looked up from my seat at the table, eyebrows furrowed into a frown. Clay was away, Harm was away, Mac was here, Harriet had headed home with the twins. Who would be knocking on my door in the middle of the afternoon?

_Knock. Knock._

I stood up from the table. "Coming!" I called, walking over to the door. Stretching out on my tippy-toes, I strained to see through the little eyehole. And who I saw on the other side of the door surprised me greatly.

I flung open the door. "Nysa?" I exclaimed incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Instantly I was enveloped in a mass of straight dark hair as the young woman hurled herself at me. "Hey, sis!" she grinned.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Eight Light Tavern**

**Harm's POV**

I sat on the edge of the bed, my shoes kicked off beside the nightstand. I flopped down on the cheap hotel bed and winced as the mattress wobbled beneath my weight. Sighing, I reached into my pocket and flipped open my cell phone. In bold print my screen read '2 Missed Calls'.

I frowned slightly, as I realized they were both from Mac's cell phone. This worried me. I'd been away many times in the past three years for work, and I'd usually been the one to call Mac. I'd call around Hunter's bed time so I could read him a story over the phone or something like that. But Mac knew better than to call me while I was working. She wouldn't call unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Hey, Webb?" I called, from my lying position on the bed.

From behind the bathroom door and through the noise of the running water, Webb's muffled response came back. "Yeah?"

"It's Mac," I said, silently debating whether I should try text messaging her or not. "She called me twice."

There was a silence on Webb's end and then – "So? You guys are married, don't you talk?"

I sighed heavily. Evidently Webb was an unmarried man. "She doesn't call me while I'm at work. Things could get . . . complicated if she did. I usually call her, but today she called me twice."

The water relented slightly and the bathroom door opened revealing Webb with a towel around his waist. "Okay, so she loves you and now that you're gone she's missing you. Bully for you."

"Ugh, Clay, you're not seeing the problem in this!" I cried irritatedly. "Mac NEVER calls me while I'm at work, but I always tell her to if something's wrong. What if she was in an accident or something?"

"Then she wouldn't be calling you on her cell phone," Clay reasoned. "The hospital would be calling you."

I had no rebuttal for this but instead punched in her cell phone number. After finger-tapping the nightstand for some odd number of seconds I gave up. "She's not answering her cell. I'm really getting worried now."

"Harm, she's FINE," Clay drilled into my head. "If something had happened to her then she wouldn't be calling you from her cell."

His reasoning does nothing for me. I sat back and watched him as he fiddled with his GPS locator thing. From the pillow my head lay on I could catch about half the screen, including the little blipping red triangle marked 'Vera'. I grinned cheekily, "You're tracking your girlfriend?"

Clay jumped at the invasion of privacy. "She's not my girlfriend," he snapped coldly.

"Not any more," I rolled my eyes. "But seriously, Clay, let up on the stalking thing. It's very uncool."

"I'm not stalking her," Clay replied through gritted teeth as he punched in a few more buttons.

"Clay, you've got some sort of tracking device on her."

"Shut up, Harm."

I sighed in defeat. "Whatever you say, Clay, but if you ask me – you should take my advice. You're not exactly a pro at the whole relationship thing."

"Oh yeah, and you are, Mr. It-took-me-a-decade-to-get-my-girl?" Clay challenged spitefully.

"Hey, it may have taken a decade," I conceded. "But at least I HAVE my girl. I have a wife, one and a half kids, and you – my friend – are a very lonely man."

Clay skipped the last part. "One and a half kids?" He just stares at me for a moment and then, "Mac's pregnant again?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" I asked, my eyes now flipping up to the ceiling instead of Clay's locator-thingy. "Yeah, she's pregnant. About two months now."

Clay heaved a sigh. "Wish her well for me when we get home."

I stared pointedly at him. "You could wish her yourself, you know."

Clay shook his head, "I'm too busy."

"You can never be too busy for friends," I countered, my blue eyes blazing.

Clay was silent for a real long moment, and then – "So what are you going to name him or her?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Mac and I are still debating."

"What are your competitors?" Clay asked and for a second there I was caught off guard. Clay seemed almost genuinely interested. It was kind of funny, this actually seemed like the first real conversation we'd had in a long time. And I'm not counting any work-related ones. Those are just what they are, work. This was more personal.

"Well, if it's a boy I'm routing for Joshua whereas Mac's more for Christopher," I shrugged. "And if it's a girl I like Alexandra and Mac likes Jessica."

Clay nodded, "Nice names."

"Yeah," I said tiredly. I wiped my eyes. "Man, I'm beat."

Clay rolled his eyes. "You slept one hour last night. You should be."

I just stared at him from my collapsed position on the bed. "And how many hours did you sleep?"

"None of your business."

I stared pointedly at him. "Can't have been much more than me."

Clay didn't deny it, but instead put his locator on the bedside table and turned out the room light. Darkness drowned us, even though it was only about six o'clock. Fall was fleeing quickly with winter just around the corner, and it didn't need to be late anymore for it to get dark.

"G'night, Harm," Clay's muffled voice reached my ears. He had his head in his pillow.

"'Night, Clay," I whispered, but my voice was drowned by the sound of his snores. I laid there for a long second just staring at him, the way his chest rose and declined with his breathing patterns. I thought about him lying there in bed like that every night, alone and defenseless against the cruelty of life. And never before, had I been so grateful for my own family. I wasn't going to end up like Webb, alone at the end of the day.

And nor was he, if destiny had anything to say about it

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know this chapter was kind of short. Really sorry about that, but it's like three in the morning and I'm incredibly tired. And, yes, I introduced a new character in the story. She's going to become . . . well, quite permanent. We'll get a little more in depth with Nysa Azhad next chapter. Hey, you can even take that as a preview. Ah . . . very tired . . . too tired to write review replies tonight. Sorry, folks. But feel free to review anyway. Reviews brighten my day. **


	8. Make Me Forget

1**A/N: wow, they finally did it. They banned review responses. I, for one, am in utter shock. Okay, actually, I'm not considering I did have previous warning of this - but come on, people, doesn't this suck? Alright, I know how cheap-commercial-ly I'm going to sound right now but you've got to sign up and get a user! I can't reply to you if you don't sign up! (But the new reply thing is neat, isn't it? . . . okay, silence, I guess I'm the only one that thinks it's cool . . .)**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, Shalimar 2, JeanMary, eggy weg, Brontesgirl, Sakura, Shelly, missymiek, michelle UK and BritneySucks! If I left anyone out, please let me know.**

**Make Me Forget**

**1942**

**Location: Unknown**

**Abbas's POV **(see, ain't this new?)

The boy stared at me through perilous blue eyes. He looked so different than the last time I saw him – a remote glimpse through a pair of binoculars. He had been a baby then, small and fragile, with those same eyes. I had to admit, Farid and Malhar had done a good job. His previously chestnut brown hair was now angel blonde to the root, and cut short in fashionable snippets rather than the long bangs he had before. I was thrown out of my reverie by a soft voice.

"Where're my Mom and Dad?" he whispered. His blue eyes nailed me, his voice whimpering. "I want my Mommy and Daddy."

I knelt before him. I kept hearing the words of the script echoing in my mind, _Embrace thy enemy, cherish his weakness. Where mortality thrives be common with all. _I smiled satanically. The weakness of my enemy. Hunter Rabb.

"Oh, my son," I whispered softly, my hand gently stroking his forehead. "They've left. They're gone."

I felt Hunter tense under my hand. "They've . . . they've left?" he whispered hollowly. His blue eyes swam with unshed tears. "Without me?"

I nodded slowly as the child in front of me dissolved into quiet tears. "But - but why?" Hunter stammered. "Mommy said she was going to take me to a movie tonight. Cuz Daddy wasn't here, and he wouldn't want to see the movie. And," he was crying so hard, "and daddy was going to read me a bedtime story like he always does. And . . ."

"Oh, shh . . . Hunter . . . shh," I soothed gently, lifting his small fragile body and placing it on the small bed by the window sill. "It's alright, you've got your Uncle Ahmad here to take care of you. You won't be alone, I'm here."

Hunter was not pacified. "But where's my MOTHER?" he pressed. Tears shook him. "Where is she?"

I winced internally. This was not going to be as easy as I thought it would be. "I don't know if they told you this, Hunter," I whispered softly. "But did your mother or father tell you that they were going to be having another baby?"

Hunter paused in thought and then nodded. "Uh huh, Mommy went to find out if it was a girl or boy yesterday."

"I see," I whispered. I found a little twitch of curiosity touch me. "And do you know what it is?"

Hunter shrugged. "I don't know, but Mommy was happy."

I smiled slowly and sadly. "You see, Hunter. Mommy and Daddy are having a new baby. They don't need you any more."

I watched as Hunter swallowed hard. "What do you mean they don't need me?"

"I mean, they have a new little boy or girl coming," I whispered gently. "They don't need you any more. You would be in their way. But I'm here for you, Hunter. I won't leave you. I'll never leave you."

Hunter was crying so loud now. "B-but Uncle Bud and Aunt Harriet didn't give AJ away! And he has little brothers and a little sister too!"

I smiled slowly, stroking the little boy's hair. Commander Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims. I'd read them on file. Friends of the family, four children. "Yes, but you don't know about their first child. They gave her up when AJ came. It's only natural, Hunter," I whispered.

Hunter shook his head ferociously, refusing to believe a word I said. Very Rabb. "But what about Jake? He's almost MY age and Aunt Vera won't give him away. She says she loves him more than her life."

I froze, staring at him. Aunt Vera . . . Vera Azhad . . . Jake . . . Jake Holter? But Hunter said he was almost his age. So under four, three maybe . . . three years ago, Vera was pregnant. Anger swept me. "Farid! Come here!"

Farid immediately appeared in the doorway. "Yessir?"

"Open up that damned laptop of yours and run Child Search," I commanded as Farid obeyed. I felt rage spark through me like electricity. _Damn him, damn him, damn him. _Hunter might not be the one after all. "Jacob Azhad."

Farid shook his head. "No match."

My mind whirled. No, Jacob would probably be named after the father. Now who was the father of Vera's baby? "Hunter," I whispered calmly at the frightened four year old. "Do you know who Jake's dad is?"

Hunter nodded slowly. "Uncle Clay."

I felt a low hollow laugh erupt within me, which is rare. I don't laugh much. Clayton Webb and Vera Azhad. Together. This was the ultimate. The two people that had completely destroyed had born a son. And a young one at that. Young enough to have the wool pulled over his eyes, young enough for genetics not to have taken over, for suspicion to aroused. Yes, Jacob Webb was the perfect target.

"Check Jacob Webb," I whispered slowly to Farid. Obligingly, he taped the keys.

"Sorry, boss, no match."

Slowly and bitterly I whispered to myself. Hunter insisted that there was indeed an Azhad-Webb child by the name of Jake, and four year-old's aren't the world's easiest liars. No, the Rabb boy was telling the truth. But how? I racked my brain for some sort of solution. Azhad was headstrong, Webb was proud. Who's name would their son have gone under?

I cracked an insane grin. It couldn't be . . . could it? "Check Jacob Azhad-Webb."

A long silence and then, "We've got a match." Farid tilted the laptop screen towards me. "Jacob Akheal Azhad-Webb. Age three, lives in Washington DC. Mother, Vera Azhad. Father, Clayton Webb . . ."

"That's enough, Farid," I whispered, my eyes blazing. This utterly overwhelming sense of giddiness washed over me. I smiled to myself. How sweet. With his first name they probably christened him after Jake Holter, and the middle name Vera's surrogate father. Touching."It's him."

I turned back to Hunter who sat there in the small bed, looking up at me with those big blue eyes of his. He's so small, so naive. New to the world, and acts just like it. Little did he know he may have just saved his own life.

And condemned his friend.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Azhad Residence**

**Vera's POV**

"Nysa," I breathed as I quickly ushered my sister into the room. I gave her a long glance. She was maybe a head taller than me with long dark hair that flowed elegantly over her shoulders, nut brown skin, and ink black eyes. "My god, what are you doing here?"

Nysa grinned. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by . . . you know, we haven't seen each other in years and all . . ."

"Mommy."

I turned around as Jake walked towards me, holding out a banana. "Can you open?"

I sighed, picking the banana out of his hands. "What's the magic word?"

"Please," Jake offered with a grin. I ruffled his hair fondly and handed him his unpeeled banana. "Oh, and Jake, before you go," I began as Jake was about to turn around. "This," I said, pointing at Nysa. "Is your Aunt Nysa. Say hello."

Jake waved and then promptly scampered back into the other room. I shrugged my shoulders. He was getting better, before he wouldn't even be able to wave in front of strangers. I turned back to Nysa who was just standing by the door gaping. "Is that your SON?" she whispered loudly.

I nodded, dreading the vocal onslaught that was sure to come. "He's three."

And sure enough, it came. "YOU HAD A KID THREE YEARS AGO AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TO INFORM ME?" Nysa hollered.

I winced as somewhere I'm sure glass was breaking. "Well, you did just say we haven't talked in years . . ."

Nysa slaps me upside the head. "If I had a kid I would have at least PHONED you!"

I shrugged my shoulders, smiling at her. "I've been busy."

Nysa rolled her eyes as Mac looked on the both of us in amusement. "You two are . . . sisters?"

"Not by birth," Nysa said shaking her head. "After Vera's parents were assassinated she came to live with my family and then changed her surname to ours. We've grown up with each other, but we share no genetics."

"Ah," Mac whispered gently. I guess we do look pretty different. Nysa is dark skin and haired, whereas I have a creamy complexion and fiery auburn hair. But our mannerisms are rather similar. We're loud, demanding, and authoritative.

"You know what?" Mac said suddenly. "I'm going to go and play with Jake or something. You two can catch up."

"Oh, you don't have to," Nysa began but Mac was already walking into the next room. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Well, come on in," I said pulling Nysa into the kitchen as I once again began to chop up vegetables. "So, tell me about what's happened. What are you doing now? Where are you living?"

"Oh, this and that, here and there," Nysa waved off breezily. "I'd much rather learn about what YOU'VE been doing." Nysa grinned slyly. "Where is he?"

"Where's who?" I warded off the question I knew she would ask.

Nysa rolled her eyes. "The giver of those beautiful pair of grey eyes in the next room."

I smiled to myself. Clay and Jake DID have nice eyes. But that was beside the point . . . "Not here," I replied.

"Well then where is he? Who is he?" Nysa pressed, and then paused as her eyes fell on my naked ring finger. "Are you married?"

I bit my lower lip embarrassed silence. Enough said. Nysa cackled manically. "Wow, who would have thought this? Of the two of us you're the unconventional one."

I grinned in reply, "Yeah, who woulda thunk it?" A slight silence settled between the two of us. "So . . ." I trailed, "Are you still with that guy? Um, what's his name again . . .? John . . . George . . ."

"Jeff," Nysa corrected me. She sighed lengthily. "No . . . not any more. Jeff was nice and everything, and it was all going smoothly . . ."

"But," I prodded, throwing the slice cucumber into a bowl.

"Well, we sort of hit an iceburg when I was in the mall shopping for new jeans and ran into him with his wife and three kids," Nysa shrugged. "I don't know why it bothered me so much. I mean, it's not like I haven't been with married men before. I guess it's probably because Jeff had kids . . . and they were so young too. I think that's what bothered me."

I eyed her intensely. "Maybe it's because you're finally coming around to wanting a serious relationship," I offered. "Maybe it's just time you want a little to depth to it. Faithfulness and trust."

Nysa merely snickered at me. "Listen to you, you sound like a married woman already," she grinned. "Nope, it must have been the kids that bugged me. I mean, I'm sure they're sweet and wonderful and everything. But I can't handle kids. Jeff told me that he was in the process of separating with his wife but I still don't want to be looked at as the woman who broke up their parents' marriage."

I understand with a smiling sigh. "You're growing up, Ny."

"Shut up," she grinned. "I am not. If either of us is older, it's you, Mrs. Super Mom."

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes. "I can barely keep up with Jake."

"In speaking of Jakes . . ." Nysa trailed. "Whatever happened to that dashing young agent you were dating way back when? Jake . . . Holten?"

"Holter," I corrected automatically.

"Yeah," Nysa ploughed on. "Whatever happened to him?"

I felt my whole body tense. "He's . . ." _Don't say it, _I inwardly cursed myself. "He's dead," I whispered hollowly. This dark feeling washed over me. All these years, and I still couldn't cope with it. "He died three years ago."

Nysa's lips were pale against her skin. "He's not . . . Jake's father, is he?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "No." _But he could have been. _"No, that position's reserved for Clay."

Nysa's eyebrows furrowed. "Who's Clay?"

I sucked in a long breath. _Who's Clay? _How do I even begin to answer that question? Clayton Webb. My boss, my coworker, my partner, my ex . . . but are we really even ex each other? I mean, there was no spoken break up. We just drifted . . . hey, he's also my drifter. But he's my friend too. Then again, are we still friends? I suddenly felt dizzy with the flood of thoughts that washed through my head, and answered the simplest way possible. "Clayton Webb. I work with him."

Nysa just stared for a moment – and then her jaw hung upon with sudden realization. "Clayton Webb as in THE Clayton Webb? Head of CIA Clayton Webb? Paraguay's Clayton Webb? Neville Webb's son Clayton We –"

"Yes, the very same," I cut her off.

Nysa just stared at me, this windblown awed expression on her face. "Hot damn, sis, you sure date up."

I gave her a playful push on her shoulder. I exhaled softly. "Yeah, Clay's Jake's father." I avoided Nysa's eyes. "We're not really . . . together, anymore. We've kind of drifted. In fact, I barely see him. He's always so busy. Jake never sees him either, and I hate that more than anything."

"Yeah, that's tough," Nysa nodded with me. "But you remember how Dad was always working? He left at five in the morning and came back at nine. He barely had time to function let alone spend any time with us, and we turned out alright. You, me, and Dev. We had a fun childhood, we got to travel to so many different places and meet so many different people. And we had it real well off."

"Yeah," I whispered slowly, this hazy look becoming my eyes. "The good old days, huh?"

"You said it," Nysa agreed, grinning. "But you know what, sis?" she said, looping an arm around me. "You've got it pretty good over here too. It might seem tough right now, raising Jake practically by yourself, keeping up your career, and still open to a chance of romance. But years from now, you'll look back just like we are now and you're going to smile. 'Cuz it'll be one of the best times of your life."

I smiled at Nysa, throwing a cucumber at her forehead. "My my, you're getting wiser in your old age."

"Shut up, you're older than me," Nysa countered, throwing a carrot stick at me.

"Hey," I grinned, and was just about to retaliate when we were interrupted by the loud and echoing _Rrrriinnnng Rrriiinnng _of the telephone. I glanced at the caller ID before I picked it up. Out of Area, but I knew the remote number. Harm's cell phone.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hotel**

**Harm's POV**

"Oh come on," I whispered to myself, pacing silently around the room. Clay laid in his bed, snoring loudly into his pillow. He was out like a light. _Poor guy, _I thought silently to myself. _He's just so desperate. _The way Clay was sleeping, one might of thought he'd been awake this past whole week. His slumber was fitful but deep. Nonetheless, I tried to keep my voice down.

_Rrrriiiinnnngggg._

"Come on!" I cried in frustration. "Just pick up." And then -

"Hello?" Vera's voice, bright and edged, crackled through the line and echoed in my ears. "Harm?"

"Vera?" I asked, heaving a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god you picked up the phone."

Immediately worry seeped into her tone. "Why? Are you alright? Is Clay okay?"

"Yes, we're both – wait a minute, how did you know that Clay's –" I began but Vera cut me off.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure that out," Vera drawled. "You and Clay both leave same time same day. Hmm . . . now there's a toughie."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Look, is Mac there? Or do you know where Mac is? I've called her cell phone four times now, but she's not answering. I know she's probably left it in her car or something – she's always doing that – and she promised to take Hunter to a movie tonight. But she's called me a few times. Do you know how I can get a hold of her?"

There was this almost pained silence on the other end of the line and then – "Yeah, Harm. She's, um, she's right here. I think she'd better . . . yeah, she'd better tell you."

"Wait, tell me what?" I demanded instantly. Fear flooded through me. "Is she okay? Wait, Vera – what's going on?"

There was the echoing static of the phone changing hands and then – "Harm?"

I gulped down the worry that threatened to overwhelm me. "Mac?" I whispered. It felt so good to hear her voice. "Mac, are you okay? You just called me so many times and you never do that . . . I'm getting worried. Is something wrong?" Silence. "Oh, please, Mac, talk to me . . ."

A shaky breath, and then - "Harm, it's . . . it's Hunter." I could hear the quiver in her voice, and the sob. The silent plea for help. I felt like I was drowning. I kept seeing the image of my dark haired blue eyed boy running around, laughing. And suddenly that picture was fading.

"Why? What's wrong with Hunter? What's happened?" Questions shot out of my mouth faster than they were processed by the brain. "Is he hurt? Where is he? Can I speak to him?"

"Oh, Harm, I don't know," Mac was crying now. I could hear her sobs, slow and shaky and it felt as if she was right next to me. Only this time I couldn't put my arms around her. "He was kidnapped at school. During recess. And no one's seen him since. It's been over four hours, Harm . . ." Mac broke, and I could hear the tears pour down as she continued to shake.

I felt numb. Cold and almost passive. Hunter. Gone. Hunter. "W-what?" I stammered. I couldn't believe it. No, not my son. Not Hunter.

"He's gone," Mac whispered. "He's gone, Harm. And I want him back so bad . . ."

I could hear her crying, and I had this overwhelming urge to hug her even though I knew I couldn't. Hunter was gone. From deep beneath my heartbroken exterior came flames of boiling anger. Abbas. He'd taken him. Somehow, someway, he'd taken Hunter. I couldn't speak. I could barely breathe.

"Jake . . . Jake says it was The Dark Man. He says Hunter told him. Oh my god, Harm, the Dark Man must be real. There was a real man stalking our little boy, in our own house. He took Hunter, I know he did," Mac's voice was firm but broken. "It's Abbas. And I'm going to kill him."

I felt a sudden wave of emotion crash down onto me. "Abbas?" I repeated numbly. "You know it's him?"

"Oh, Harm, I know," Mac sighed distressed. "I saw his Wanted poster. And he's got Hunter, don't deny it." I couldn't even if I tried. "Oh, god, I miss him so much . . ."

From the way she sounded, I knew she had been trying to hold it in all day. To keep her chin up and her appearance strong. But at the end of the day when the world drew to a close, Mac was just as human as were we all.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked passionately from my seat on the bed.

I listened to the sound of Mac's steady breathing on the phone, and the following one simple request. "Just talk to me, Harm. Make me forget."

But no matter how many words were uttered, from this point on our lives were changed irrevocably. And we knew it.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, it's weird not replying to reviews. But please don't stop leaving them. They still brighten my day.**


	9. Carry on my Wayward Son

1**A/N: Yeah, I know, it's been forever since I'd updated. Bring out the hacking saw.**

**Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, dansingwolf, Samantha, musiclover, Abigaile, Laura, Lani, Bookworm0485, Eggy Weg, Brontesgirl, starryeyes10, jaggurl, Major Jagfan, Strawberry Kittens, Shalimar 2, JeanMary, eggy weg, Brontesgirl, Sakura, Shelly, missymiek, michelle UK, BritneySucks, Catherine, judy52sa, Charmingly Gorgeous, and ForensicsFreak1988! If I left anyone out, please let me know.**

**Carry on my Wayward Son**

**2013**

**Azhad Residence**

**Vera's POV**

"Okay, Jake, it's bedtime," I said softly as I turned off the television by ways of the remote and picked him up off the floor. "You're going to be one tired boy tomorrow morning. We've got to wake up early to go to Grandma's."

"Why are we going to Grandma's?" Jake asked, taking my hand as he scrambled up to join me. "I thought you didn't like Grandma."

_It's not that I don't like Grandma, _I thought wryly. _It's that I don't trust her. _"I like Grandma Webb," I said, trying my hardest to sound believable. "Besides, Mommy has to go away for a few days, and who better to take care of you?"

"But when you go away I always stay with Aunt Mac," Jake protested as he sat down on his bed and pulled off his slippers. "Why can't I stay with Aunt Mac? I don't wanna go to Grandma's."

"Because Aunt Mac's coming with me, sweetie," I explained slowly. I ruffled his hair fondly. "But don't worry, as soon as we're back I'll come and pick you up from Grandma's house. And then, if it's not too cold, we'll go the zoo or something. How's that for a deal?"

"Alright," Jake muttered reluctantly. "But I still don't see why I have to stay with Grandma. Can't I stay with Aunt Nysa? She could take care of me."

I did my best to suppress a snort and failed miserably. Nysa, however much I loved her, was the last person on earth – with the exception of only Abbas – that I would entrust the care of my child to. "You can spend some time with Aunt Nysa after we get back, but you haven't seen you Grandma in a while, and she's been asking to see you for a while. This would be the perfect opportunity."

I did actually feel bad about that. Porter Webb had as much as right as any other grandmother had to see her grandson, but I just couldn't help but casting a shadow over her. She's Clay's mother. She was the one who raised him to be who he is. And I don't want Jake turning out like that. I'd only been at the motherhood thing for three years, but I was liking the way Jake was coming out. Honest. And that was more than I could ever say for Clay.

Jake paused in thought and then nodded agreeably. "Alright," he whispered and I kissed him on the forehead as I turned to exit the room. I pulled my sweater up a little higher over shoulders, warding off the cold that had nothing to do with the weather when -

"Can we take Hunter too, Mommy?" Jake asked, his head buried in pillows and covers.

I frowned lightly. "Take Hunter where, Jake?"

"After you and Aunt Mac come back," Jake whispered elaboratingly. "When we go to the zoo, can we take Hunter?" And then suddenly a pause of thought. "You ARE going to bring Hunter back with you, right?"

I felt myself freeze. "Of course, Jake. We'll bring Hunter back."

"And go to the zoo?" Jake prodded innocently.

I flashed a hesitant smile at my son. "Yes, and then we'll go the zoo. All of us." And then I left him to his slumberous thoughts as I turned out the light, this feeling of growing dread developing at the bottom of my stomach and working its way up.

"Okay," I whispered, entering the next room where Mac laid curled up on the couch, her eyelids drooping so low she was barely awake. Nysa sat in my usual armchair, her eyes almost lazily glued to the television as she watched The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. "I've got to get packing for tomorrow. Mac, you're already packed. Nysa, do you have a place to stay for tonight, or do you want to stay here?"

"Hmm?" Nysa asked, stirred from her reverie. She looked up at me. "What, oh, yeah, I'll stay here if you don't mind."

"Have you got anything to wear tomorrow?" I asked, motioning for her to follow me as I moved into the next room – my bedroom – and pulled out of my closet my duffel bag. "'Cause otherwise, you and I are basically the same size, you could just borrow something of mine."

"Vera, we're not twelve anymore," Nysa grinned, flipping herself acrobatically onto my bed and then stretched out luxuriously. "I have my own clothes – I've got a bag packed in the car. Besides," Nysa added cheekily, "You and I aren't quite the same size any more."

I turned around from burrowing myself in my closet to stare at her. "What is that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"Well," Nysa rolled her eyes, her arms waving in a silent gesture. "I mean, I suppose before you and I were the same size, but evidently pregnancy has taken a toll on you . . ."

In a matter of seconds I had her pinned down underneath me on the bed. What they teach you in the Secret Service, I tell you. "Take it back," I growled, tickling her forcefully as she squirmed uncontainably beneath my arms. When she said nothing I said louder, "Take it back!"

"Okay, okay, fine, I take it back," Nysa panted as I released her from my iron grip. "Jeez, Vera, you've gotten no softer in your adult days."

"Nor have you got any less smart-alec," I returned pointedly, throwing two pairs of jeans into my duffel bag, followed by a whole swamp of shirts. "Now come on, help me fold."

Nysa was having a time at this. "And you even fold now!" she exclaimed in glee. "Come on, Vera, don't you remember when we were kids? The word 'Folding' didn't even EXIST in your vocabulary. You would just throw any old thing in your bag, squish it in 'till it fit, and then be done with it."

"Well, that was in the old days when I didn't care how wrinkled my jeans were and how many creases my t-shirts had," I rolled my eyes, folding my shirts delicately and then placing them in my duffle bag. I caught Nysa watching me intently with a taunting smirk on her face and quickened the pace of my folding.

Nysa picked up a pair of my jeans and walked over to my full length mirror in the corner, waving them in front of her hips as a model would do. "They're nice . . ." Nysa trailed. "But a bit big."

"They're not big," I jumped up quick to my own defense. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. Those were my snuggest pair, too. Maybe maternity had taken its toll on me. I snatched my jeans away from her. "Besides," I said rather irritably. "I WORK for my figure, you don't. You never have. You could eat a big fat greasy pig and not gain a fraction of a pound."

"Excellent metabolism, sis, excellent metabolism," Nysa said cheerfully, sitting back down on my bed and crossing her legs one over another into a meditation position. "It's what makes the world go round."

"Yeah, your world," I muttered. "Besides," I added, folding those same pair of jeans up and putting them in the duffel bag. "I'm a size 2. You can't be . . ." I trailed as her smug grin overpowered me. "You're a zero?" I asked incredulously.

"What?" Nysa fended, getting up and doing a 360 turn. "Don't I look it?" she asked, gesturing from the waist down.

_And she did look it, _I admitted to myself grimly. Though only two years younger, Nysa reminded me of my younger self. Carefree, cheeky, and almost self-centered. I'd been a size zero at one point too. But I'd worked like a dog for my body. I would run miles each morning, and the same at night. I kept off fatty foods, drank more water than an elephant. Nysa didn't have to work, it just came natural to her. To me it seemed like a miracle I was only a size two. Especially after Jake's birth. I hadn't had the time to do half of what I used to do, plus I'd gained all that weight. To Nysa size zero was typical, to me size 2 was a miracle. It just wasn't fair.

"Hey, why so quiet?" Nysa slumped back onto my bed. "You're not fat, Vera. Seriously. I was just messing around with you."

"I know," I said, doing my best to plaster on a realistic smile. "Anyways, while Mac and I are gone where are you going to be staying? You can hang around my place if you want, but it's kind of small and Jake's stuff covers every square inch so I can understand if you want to check into a hotel or –"

"Actually, Vera," Nysa began sort of slowly. "I was wondering if . . . you know, I could come with you and Mac."

I stopped in mid-fold. I looked up at her. "Huh?"

"I mean, you're looking for her son right? The one that was kidnaped . . ." Nysa trailed in hard thought. "Um, what's his name again . . . Henry . . . Harry . . ."

"Hunter," I said. "Hunter Rabb."

"Yeah, that's right," Nysa nodded along. "I'll help you look for him. It'll be fun."

I sighed heavily, feeling exactly like I did at twenty-one when trying to explain to a nineteen year-old Nysa she couldn't come clubbing with me. Like I was fighting a losing battle. "Ny, this isn't supposed to be fun. Hunter was kidnaped by a potentially very dangerous man, and if we don't get him back soon he might die."

"I know that, Vera," Nysa fought me. "But I can help you. I've worked for the Secret Service for the last seven years. I know how this works."

"But, Ny –" I began wearily. The day had been long, it had been hard, and I was too sleepy to put up much of a defense. At late hours like these, I just couldn't handle my exuberant younger sister. "You'd be much better off here. Go clubbing or something, I can recommend to you a number of great places. You'll have fun."

"No thanks," Nysa was already getting up off the bed. "I've got my bag packed, I'm gonna get some shut eye now, and I will be coming with you in the morning. G'night, sis."

And with that she left, ending our conversation the same way she had our clubbing one all those years ago. Stubborn and laden with victory. I flopped down on my bed, my arms spread out snow-angel-like and eyes dropping closed exhaustedly. I had all the fight taken out of me. Every single rebellious bone in my body lay asleep as I succumbed to the darkness. And it was only nine o'clock. A monumental moment.

As I slept I thought about Nysa, so young and fresh – all that I was once, but now no more. She had the world laid out for her on a silver platter. She looked young for her age, and exceedingly attractive for it too. She was smart, tenacious, and she knew what she wanted and how to get it. She had nothing to weigh her down, no family responsibilities. Her social life consisted of flitting about from one party to the next. Life was a mile a minute with Nysa. She didn't have a son to care for all by herself, an ex who she spent all day at the office trying to avoid – made increasingly difficult by the fact both offices were next to each other. No, she had a chance for romance with all those guys that she had swooning over her. The minute a guy found out a kid was involved he ran the other way as fast as he could, and you and your size 2 frame could do nothing about it.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Hotel**

**Harm's POV**

"Harm, you couldn't have known," Clay drilled into my head, reiterating the phrase for the hundredth time. "We'll get Abbas for this," he whispered passionately. "But beating yourself up for no reason is not the way to do it."

"I should have known!" I hollered back with such force I surprised myself, not to mention Clay. "I should have known something was up when Hunter couldn't sleep at night. I'm his FATHER, Clay, I'm supposed to know when something's wrong with my own freaking kid!" I went back to madly pacing as I had been doing for the last hour or so. "He was so . . . _scared, _Clay. I should have seen it. I mean, I'm an agent. I'm trained to see this kind of stuff. I should have known."

"Harm, no one's trained to see this kind of thing happening in their home," Clay whispered soothingly. "Abbas played us – played you. And we'll get him for that. We'll set out tomorrow morning after the girls join us, and we'll hunt them down. Hunter will be safe at home in no time."

"I'm gonna kill him," I ploughed on. "If he so much as touches one hair on his head . . ."

"Harm," Clay began.

"I'll shoot him right between the eyes," I carried on, the extent of my pacing becoming so wild and unpredictable, Clay was off the floor and on his bed. "He can't touch my family. Mac's worried enough as it is, I don't want her stressing it – especially considering she's pregnant. He's going to pay for this . . ."

"Harm," Clay said again.

"I'll lock him up where the sun doesn't shine," I said through gritted teeth. "Hunter must be so scared. They probably drugged him to keep him quiet. Chloroform, I bet you. And if we don't find him soon . . ." I trailed, internally shuddering at the possibility. "Abbas'll kill him." My fists clenched. "We can't let that happen."

"Harm," Clay repeated, a little louder this time.

"We'll press him with all the charges in the freaking law book," I exclaimed passionately. "There'll be no cutting any deals for him. I don't care if he has the plot for the assassination of the Pope, he is never getting out again . . ."

"HARM!" Clay hollered loudly, seizing me by the shoulders and shaking me violently.

"I – what?" I asked him angrily, pushing his arms off me.

Clay exhaled deeply. "I just got an email," Clay whispered, handing me his blackberry with a fresh message open on the screen.

"So?" I snapped, shoving Clay's blackberry back into his hands. "My son's in danger."

"Harm, you don't get it," Clay gritted frustratedly. "The email's from Abbas."

* * *

**A/N: One chapter away from the big ten.Yay. Frankly, I'd thought I'd get to this point sooner, but RL just keeps getting in the way. Alright, I've just been reading these past few chapters over and I have come to resign myself to the fact (which I'd never been able to admit before) that I do need a beta. Any offers?**


	10. Searching For Hunter

**A/N: Merry Christmas, people! And for those who don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays and almost-new-year! **

**Searching For Hunter**

**0812**

**Vera's Car**

**Vera's POV**

"Are we there yet?"

I bit my lower lip in suppressed frustration. Nysa was like a five year old on Christmas; so on edge, with this almost rabid excitement about her. It was bugging the heck out of me. Mac sat very quietly in the back, her head resting lightly against the window and pushing hard to capture the sleep she'd never claimed last night. I watched her through the back mirror. Her skin was a very creamy pale color, like a China doll put away for years in a cabinet with no one to touch it or care for it.

"We're almost there," I replied to Nysa's question as I realized I'd been silent too long. "Just another minute."

Mac seemed to at least perk up at this comment. She shifted from her sprawled position in the full length back seat to at least sitting up. Her brown eyes darted from side to side as she took in our surroundings. I have to hand it to Abbas; if he wanted to disappear he couldn't have picked a better place to do it. The road we were driving on was so old and worn; the pavement that had once covered it was dry and cracked, pounding under our tires and into the dirt. The landscape was nothing but fields and fields, stretching out into the great beyond with little but farms breaking its surface.

Even though we were rapidly approaching the end of October, the air here was thick and warm. I had set out from DC wearing jeans and a sweatshirt due to the nip in the air, but now my sweatshirt was strewn somewhere in the back seat with Mac and I wore a tank top instead. Nysa, who seemed utterly oblivious to the cold when we left DC, had always been a tank top and cargo capris. Mac had not changed from her jeans and t-shirt. In fact, she barely moved or said anything the whole car ride.

"There we go," I breathed suddenly as the Eight Light Tavern where Harm and Clay had been staying loomed up into vision. At the steps to the tavern, Harm and Clay sat. Clay's eyes were glued to the large map spread out on his lap, and Harm just sat with his head in his hands. Both seemed oblivious to my fast approaching vehicle.

"Harm," I heard Mac whisper from behind me and even before I had pulled my car to a complete halt, she'd flung the back door open. "Harm!" she called louder.

Harm slowly raised his head from its resting spot in his hands. "Mac?" Suddenly, he was on his feet just in time to catch Mac as she flung herself to him. I sat in my car, physically frozen. All the tears that Mac had managed to hold back, the emotion that she'd suppressed, suddenly poured out as she stood in Harm's arms. I couldn't hear what they were saying, and Mac was moving her lips too little for me to able to read it. But Harm's hands were slowly stroking Mac's hair as he held her gently against his chest, his lips moving with I suppose what were words of comfort. I watched as Mac eased into his embrace, so lightly but so trustingly.

My hand was drawn robotically to the handle of my car and I exited. Clay looked up as I walked over to him, my head turning every so often to watch Harm and Mac. They were both in such a fragile state, they warranted monitoring. But right now they were both so worried on how the other was doing, I doubt they were even giving themselves any time for introspection.

"Hey you," I whispered in what I hoped to be a light voice, as I drew near him.

Clay didn't skip a beat. His cloudy grey eyes leapt up to mine. He wasted no time with unimportant questions. "How are you doing?" he asked.

I sat next to him on the steps. "Okay, I guess." Honestly, I was very unsure about how I was doing. Hunter's disappearance had my freaked out. I just kept thinking _what if it had been Jake? What if it had been Jake? What would I have done? _I cleared my throat nervously as the honest answer echoed in reflection. _I would have fallen apart._

My eyes drew back to Clay's and for a second there I was knocked breathless. His eyes held an almost strangled sort of compassion. I felt my whole body shiver. _No, _I kept thinking. _He's not going to suck me in again. I'm not going to fall for him again. We're over. _The last words really hit it home. I sucked in a deep breath. _We're over._

"Vera?"

I turned around, this almost guilty feeling shadowing me. I'd left Nysa in the car. What a great big sister I was. Nysa stepped out of the car, pausing for a moment to stretch her arms from lack of stretching room in the car. Her tank top soared up to reveal a thick band of nut brown flesh from beneath the yellow fabric.

"Who's that?" Clay's whispered words floated into my mind.

I turned around so fast, I swear I had whiplash. Clay sat there on the steps, his hands momentarily frozen on the folded out map, _watching _my sister. And not just watching like . . . like I was currently watching Harm and Mac. But _watching_. You know, the other kind.

Of course, Nysa picked that exact moment to stride forward, her hips swaying very gently in her dirt brown cargos, and smiled that infamous I-could-be-on-the-cover-of-Vogue smile. "Hi," she said, stretching out one her long tanned arms towards Clay. "I'm Special Agent Nysa Azhad."  
If I'd slapped Clay across the face with a brick, his face couldn't have looked more stunned. Clay didn't take his eyes off of her as he rose to his feet, his hand taking hers as they both shook. "Clayton Webb."

And in that one lingering, horrific moment, their eyes leapt up towards each other and then slowly, discretely, they both scrolled down. I was frozen_. Was he . . . ? No, he couldn't be . . . _That answer kept replaying in my mind. _He couldn't be . . . checking my sister out?_

Oh, but he could. This almost goofy grin plastered itself to Clay's face as his eyes scrolled up from the bottom of Nysa's sandaled feet to the top of her long ink black hair covered scalp. This almost foreign emotion took hold of me and shook. Clay still wasn't letting go of her hand. The smiles they were sharing were sickening. Nausea swept me.

"Nysa Azhad," Clay repeated her name almost to himself. He cast me an inquiring look which I replied with one that was sharply pointed at the two of them whose hands were still shaking. Clay released Nysa's hand. "So . . . how are you related to Vera?"

He was asking Nysa but I replied anyway. "We're sister," I said monotonously. I could feel my cheeks burn. _Clay likes her, _I kept thinking bitterly. _Clay really really likes her. _

I could feel Clay's eyes on me now too. He was looking at both of us, his eyebrow cocked up to the sky, and summing up the comparisons in his mind. I could already imagine what he was thinking. _Nysa's thinner. Nysa's taller. Nysa's darker. Nysa's prettier . . ._ the list continued.

"So, is someone going to explain or am I going to have to guess?" Clay joked. Nysa looked at me, her eyebrow raised with an expression that said you-haven't-told-him-already?

"You tell him," I said bluntly, pulling away from the two of them before they could say anything more. I walked over to where Harm and Mac were huddled, but I could hear their voices before I reached them.

"Harm, this isn't your fault," Mac's voice was pressed. "None of this is. I was home with Hunter, I was the one that dropped him off at preschool. You can't –"

"Shut up, Mac, if I can't blame myself, you can't either," Harm's voice was firm and overpowering. I watched as he cupped her face in his hand. Harm's voice suddenly grew lower and deeper as he whispered into her ear, Mac's arms coiling around Harm's neck once again.

I felt lost. I turned back to Clay and Nysa, who were completely engrossed in their own conversation, their not-so-subtle flirting seeping under my skin. And then I looked over at Harm and Mac who were entirely in their own world as they held each other more for the comfort than the warmth.

And I felt totally and completely alone.

* * *

**Some Minutes Later**

**Same Place**

**Clay's POV**

"Alright, ladies, here's the deal," I said, my voice low and gravelly. I spread my map fully across the hood of the jeep I'd borrowed from the local dealer. "Last night I received an email on my blackberry from Abbas."

Mac visibly flinched.

"Yes, I know," I whispered more to her than anyone else. "I was surprised too. But," I said louder, and now to the whole group. "Whatever his motive is, we're taking the lead he's giving us." I motioned to the map in front of me. "The red square over there is the coordinates Abbas sent me. Obviously, his intent was for us to believe this is where he's holding Hunter hostage. Whether it is or not, this is our only lead."

"So we could be walking into a trap," Nysa interrupted bluntly. I stared at her. She was rather wildly beautiful, with long dark hair the snaked around her shoulders. Her eyes were similarly dark, but possessed an almost unnatural light about them. They seemed to gleam when she laughed or she smiled, but seemed to own this incredible depth. They drew me in when she spoke, and reeked of practicality and innocence. It was uncanny she should be Vera's sister, even if not genetically related. Vera was very rarely innocent.

"We could be," I confirmed Nysa's suspicion. "But it's all we have."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Harm said gravely. My eyes flickered to his for a brief moment and I nodded.

"The way I figure it, if it is a trap," I said, a hundred percent sure that it was. "Abbas is probably waiting for Harm and I. He isn't counting on Vera and Mac –"

"And me," Nysa quipped. From behind Nysa I saw Vera flash her sister an indecipherable look. But taken from the experience I have had with Vera, it was nothing good. I cleared my throat, sending Vera a pacifying look even though I had no clue what she was mad about.

"Yes, and Nysa. And maybe a little addition to our force, if I can get him to agree. Anyways," I trailed quickly as Vera's mouth opened to what I was sure was the question on who was my 'little addition'. "I've mapped out our rout from here to the coordinates Abbas sent me. At around noon, we're gonna deviate from our course a little . . ." I drew a thin blue line next to the red one which had our original rout on it. "And we're gonna make a stop right about here."

I marked with a blue x over said spot. "If there's no traffic and nothing goes wrong, we should be at Target X by eight tonight."

"Target X?" Mac questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders, "That's what I'm calling Abbas's mysterious location. As far as I can tell by these topographical maps, it's nothing but hills and hills and hills. We'll need to be sharp and on the look out."

Mac shook her head. "I don't like this, Clay."

I touched Mac lightly on the shoulder. "I know you don't."

"Hey, Clay, a question," Vera leaned in against the jeep, her arms crossing over midriff. "How are we gonna . . . you know, get there? I mean, are we going to use my car and your jeep?"

I shook my head. "Too noticeable. Your car is new, expensive. That's exactly what these town people AREN'T used to. We don't want to leave them with an impression. We've got to blend in. The jeep's kind of old and rusted up, plus it can stand rough terrain. It'd be better to use it."

"But Clay," Vera pressed. "The Jeep is a FOUR seated vehicle. There are FIVE of us."

"Well then," I said, throwing open the left door to the jeep and climbing into the driver's seat. "That's just bad math."

* * *

**1148**

**The Jeep**

**Mac's POV**

"Hmm . . . Harm . . ." I whispered against Harm's chest. We were sprawled in the back seat of the Jeep much the same way I had been in Vera's car, only now I was sleeping on Harm instead of the seat. There was no need to say which was more comfortable. "Harm?" I whispered again.

"I'm awake," he whispered roughly. He stretched his long legs, banging them against the Jeep windows by accident. He swore under his breath, curling his knees up underneath him. My legs stretched out over his. "What's wrong?"

I released a long calmed breath. "It's Vera and Clay."

Harm's eyes remained shut but raised an eyebrow. "What about them?" he said a bit loudly.

"Shh," I hushed him, putting my finger to his lips. "They'll hear us." From behind closed lids I was sure Harm was rolling his eyes. "I think I know where we're going."

"Hmm, where?" Harm muttered in my ear. "And why can't Clay and Vera hear us?"

I flashed him a guilty smile, "Because I'm not supposed to know." Harm opened his mouth for an explanation but I ploughed on. "Besides, I'm not sure if we're even going there anyway. And . . . and . . ."

"Alright, Mac, just breathe," Harm reminded me with an almost pained smile. Both of us were finding it hard to smile since Hunter had gone. And though perhaps that statement was rather poetically inclined, it meant nothing of the sort. It was like suddenly sunglasses had been dropped over my vision, and the whole world seemed shades darker. The darkness was nothing to smile about.

"Clay, I think you've taken a wrong turn," Vera's voice cut through to the both of us.

"Vera, I know where I'm going," Clay's voice was clearly agitated. Speaking from past experience with Clay and direction, Vera had a right to worry. "I've been here before."

"How am I supposed to know that?" Vera snapped. "I don't even know where "here" is."

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Clay hissed in return.

"Oh, come on, you two," Nysa's overly cheerful voice cut in. "Stop fighting. It's getting boring." For lack of an extra seat, Nysa sat squished in between Clay and Vera on a makeshift seat at the front of the car. They'd flipped the center CD holder into a seat by pushing the top down and flipping open one of the backs from underneath their chairs. I suppose the backs weren't originally for that purpose but it worked. With a pillow they'd stolen from the tavern over top of the CD holder, it was "reasonably comfortable" according to Nysa. And as Vera had pointed out, "Nysa was skinny enough to fit on the CD holder in the first place."

"We wouldn't be fighting if Clay knew where the hell he was going," Vera snapped in retaliation, jogging me out of my reverie and sucking me right back into reality.

"I told you," Clay said through gritted teeth. "Just because you don't know where we're going, doesn't mean I'm a clueless lazy ass who's driving us into oblivion."

"You're right, there are other signs that point to that," Vera bit back.

"Both of you SHUT UP!" Nysa hollered over both of their quarrelling voices. Silence filled the Jeep. "Now Vera," Nysa quickly addressed her sister. "Clay knows where he's going." She looped one long tanned arm around Clay's shoulders and smiled at Vera. "A sweet guy like him wouldn't get us lost out in the boonies."

Vera snorted. Clay glared at her. "How come if Clay is such a sweet guy he won't tell us where he's taking us?" Vera asked shrewdly.

Clay opened his mouth to speak but Nysa beat him to the punch. "He has his reasons. You know, Vera, knowledge is as much a gift as it is a burden."

Vera's glare was burning holes in the back of Nysa's head. "And of course YOU would no, wouldn't you, you little –"

"Okay, and EVERYBODY OUT!" Clay trampled the words that Vera was sure to regret had they ever left her mouth. I lifted myself up off Harm's body, my hands entangling itself in my hair. I looked through the shaded window of the jeep. We had pulled in front of a small white brick house, and just from the look of it I knew it was the one. It had a very dark red slanting tiled roof, with matching dark red shudders that stood out noticeably against the white washed walls. The little dirt path that lead from where the Jeep was parked to the front of their door was lined with multicolored stones, and on either side of the path was two fenced in gardens where the green was lush and wild with bright flowers springing up from every odd place. The long and dark tree that stood in the corner of the surrounding grass had a tire swing attached to its front branch, the swing swaying side to side in the mild wind. The front yard was cluttered with random objects including a bright pink toddler's bicycle and various rusted garden tools.

"Where are we?" Harm and Vera echoed at the same time. Clay smiled grimly to himself, hitching his navy windbreaker up a little higher over his shoulders though the air was warm and the sun beat down humidly. I walked in front of the group, slowly and surely up the steps of the porch. A beat up old welcome mat sat in front of the door with today's newspaper left forgotten on top of it. I rang the door bell.

In reaction to the sound of the door bell, the sound of a baby's cry met my ears followed by another voice, possibly as young if not a little older, and then the fervent shushing of an older male. The screen door opened and then the front door revealing a man in his mid-thirties, half of his tanned Hispanic facial skin hidden beneath a gruff dark beard. But the matching brown eyes were the same as they'd always been; humorous but struck with determination.

"Webb," he whispered at Clay, grinning as they shook hands. "It's been a while."

"Certainly has, Shapiro," Webb agreed with a swift nod.

Shapiro turned to me and winked in that sly way he did. "Mac."

"Tony," I said in return.

Shapiro leaned his thin body against the door frame. "How come I have the sneaking suspicion that this visit isn't just for pleasure?"

"Because it's not," Clay cut to the crude chase. He picked up the weathered newspaper off the doormat and handed it to Tony. "I don't suppose you have read the paper yet today."

Shapiro looked from Webb to me, to Vera then to Harm. He opened it up and on the front page was the title written in block letters 'MISSING BOY'. Beneath it was the most recent picture of Hunter I could find for the cop. Tony grimaced, "Oh."

* * *

**A/N: Hi, sorry for the late postings. But I'm finally off of school, so – yeah, more chapters, I guess. **


	11. What If It Was Your Kid?

**A/N: Yeah, I brought Shapiro back. He was just too good a character to let go. Good news: three days till the new year. Bad news: two weeks till school starts again. Dammit. **

**What if it was your kid?**

**1253**

**Target X**

**Abbas's POV**

"Sit still, Hunter," I commanded as the four year old squirmed on the bedspread. I laid a strong hand on his shoulder, and watched as Hunter stiffened. Slowly, I drew my right hand to his head, the comb I clutched slicing quickly through Hunter's long bangs.

He looked very different than the way I'd first seen his picture on the internet. His hair was a kind of chocolate brown and drawn in long strands from a center point on his head. Now it was a very dirty blonde color and cut so that it was short in the back but had long sliced bangs in the front. Unfortunately, as stylish as Hunter's new haircut was, it was still very hard to pass a comb through.

Hunter was very silent. For a moment, I thought tears would fall but they didn't. He stayed strong. "They're going to come back, right?" Hunter spoke up suddenly.

I turned back to Hunter, stroking his head softly. "Who's going to come back?"

Hunter's eyes were downcast, "Mommy and Daddy."

I smiled that sympathetic smile that I reserved only for the most torturous of occasions. "It depends," I said slowly. I caught Hunter staring at me with those big blue eyes of his. I sat him down across from me, casting my eyes down so that our vision linked.

"It all depends on how much your parents love you, Hunter," I said elaborately. Hunter remained quiet. "Tomorrow we shall see the depth of their love for you. If they love you a lot, you'll see them again." _And if not, you'll never see anyone again._

Hunter remained staring at the bed sheets. "My parents love me," he said quietly, almost to himself. "They'll come back to get me. They love me. You'll see."

I nodded slowly at the preschooler. "I hope that's the case," I said as I left the room. And for a second there, I almost believed myself.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Shapiro Residence**

**Harm's POV**

"Estrella, viene aquí! Tenemos huéspedes!" Shaprio called in rapid Spanish. Almost immediately, a woman appeared in the hallway. She was short, maybe around Vera's height, 5'3" or somewhere around there. She had long dark curly hair, tinted by copper highlights, and was dresses in a plain full-length skirt and wore an apron over a lightly colored long-sleeve shirt. She looked rather overdressed for the humid weather.

"This is my wife, Estrella," Shapiro said, looping one arm around Estrella and holding her tightly. He grinned at my shocked expression. "I suppose you didn't know I married."

"I don't think anyone but Clay and I did," Mac deduced from Vera's and my shocked expressions. Nysa hadn't a clue in hell what was going on, but didn't seem to mind either. She just stood there seeming unimpressed by the suburban surroundings.

"You knew Shapiro married?" I instantly demanded of Mac, and without waiting for an answer, "and how come you didn't tell me?"

"Mac wasn't supposed to keep in touching with Tony," Clay said, casting Mac a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "No one was. Tony wanted out of it all; I didn't want any difficult situations arising. Disconnection seemed like the easiest plan. However," Clay flashed another look at Mac, "it seems like some people just live to defy the rules."

"I do when they're stupid," Mac replied bluntly. She turned to Estrella with a kind smile on her face. "Mi nombre es Mac," she released in a very strangled voice. Spanish was not one of Mac's better languages.

"¿Hola, usted es un amigo de Tony?" Estrella spoke gently with a rather large smile on her face.

Mac turned back to Tony, and embarrassed grimace on her face. "Okay, stating my name is pretty much the only Spanish I know. What did your wife say?"

"She asked if you were a friend of mine," Tony spoke casually. He turned back to his wife. "Sí, ella es un amigo."

The air was suddenly broken by the high pitch sound of a baby's cry. Estrella released a tired sigh, "Oh, Cassandra," she whispered, shaking her head and then said something to Tony again in Spanish before disappearing down the hallway she came from.

"Just excuse her," Tony remarked casually, as his eyes followed his wife down the hall. "She is tending to our daughter Cassandra. Cassie is . . . cranky today. She's been crying all night and day." Tony grimaced. "Though, I suppose I don't need to lecture you lot on baby cries."

His eyes suddenly flipped up to Nysa. "I'm sorry; I don't think we've met before."

"We haven't," Nysa said nodding. She extended her hand, "Special Agent Nysa Azhad."

"Anthony Shapiro," Shapiro took her hand in a firm shake. "Well, won't you come in to the kitchen? Trella and I are just making lunch, it would be no problem to just make a little extra," Tony remarked casually as he wandered himself into what appeared to be the kitchen.

"Honestly, please stay. It would be great to catch up."

Clay nodded in swift response, "I think we'd like that."

The troop entered the kitchen where on the small table that only seated four sat a very small girl. She could be no more than two and a half, and she was sitting up as high as she could on the big chair, drawing crudely with crayons on a small piece of paper. Her features were small and delicate, but with the striking features of her father and the gentleness of her mother. She had soft shoulder length brown hair – the same color as Hunter's, I noted wryly – and dark brown if not black eyes. Her skin was tanned much like her Hispanic mother's but a shade lighter due to the mixture of Tony's complexion.

"This is my daughter Miliana," he said, kissing the little girl on the top of the head. He turned to his daughter, "Can you tell them how old you are, Mia?"

Mia turned to look at us squarely, not intimidated by our age or height at all. "I'm two," she said strongly.

Tony ruffled her hair fondly. "She's almost two and a half," he said to us and then turned back to Mia, collecting her five crayons in his hand. "Hey Mia, can you go color in your room? My friends and I need to use the table. I'll call you for lunch, okay, sweetie?"

Mia nodded and took the crayons from Tony's hands and scuttled down the hallway. Vera smiled at Shapiro, "cute kid. I can't believe she's yours."

Shapiro cracked a grin even wider than Vera did, "cuter than yours."

"Take that back," Vera humorously growled.

"But lying is a sin," Tony returned smiling.

"Okay, you two, break it up," Clay rolled his eyes.

"Aww, but we never get to do this," Tony mock pouted. Clay glared at him, and Shapiro visibly stiffened up. Even Shapiro knows the limits set by Clay. They're unspoken, unwritten, unmentioned, but yet they're there. Joke around with Clay all you want, but when it's serious – get serious.

"So what's up?" Shapiro crossed his arms over his chest, sitting down at the table. Vera, Mac, and Nysa followed suite.

Clay reached into his jacket pocket and handed Shapiro a picture. I recognized it instantly and surmised Mac must have given it to him. I'd personally taken one of Hunter when I'd taken him to the park a few months ago. He was dressed in grey shorts and a navy jersey. The sunshine made his hair look a shade lighter than it really was, and his tanned legs were pronounced against his white sneakers. _He's only four, _I kept thinking. _Only four._

"Nice-looking kid," Shapiro deduced after a long inspecting silence. He looked up from the picture. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Hunter Rabb, age four," Vera tensed, "missing since yesterday. Disappeared at 1400 in Hildegard Marsdon Preschool. Believed captor," Vera paused for either effect or hesitance. "Escaped convict Ali Abbas."

Shapiro choked on the air he was breathing. "Abbas?" he whispered. His lips had gone white. "He's escaped?"

"Three days ago," I whispered quietly. "He killed a guard, and no one's seen him since. And Hunter . . ." I stopped short, willing myself to go on. "Then Hunter disappeared. We believe –"

"Abbas took him," Shapiro finished for us. When he looked up at us again, his eyes were wide and scared. I knew the feeling. Shapiro was not in his prime anymore. No, three years ago he was. He was living it up, pulling off half-crocked scams with the feds and people like Webb. He did anything anywhere as long as he got the warranted cash. But I could just tell by Shapiro's actions he wasn't that kind of man anymore. He had a wife, daughters, and a little home in the heart of suburbia that just couldn't get on without him. Abbas could jeopardize that. No, Abbas WOULD jeopardize that. He would damn well tear the image to shreds.

"God, I'm sorry Mac, Harm," Shapiro looked at us. "I'm sure Hunter's a good kid, and I feel bad about all this. I do. No harm should come to your little boy, but I can't do this." Shapiro's voice was pained. "I can't do what you want me to do. Mia's not even three, Cassie's half that, and Estrella's pregnant with our daughter Ava. I just can't get involved with this, I can't. It's too much."

"Tony, listen –" Clay began.

"No, YOU listen," Shapiro cut off Clay's voice. "Abbas is dangerous. I've learned my lesson, Clay. I have. People that mess with Abbas die. We're so damned lucky, Webb. All of us," he exclaimed and then turned to Nysa. "Well, except for you. You're the newbie. But," he now spoke to all of us. "I can't ruin this for my family. I can't. Estrella doesn't work; she's a full time mom and probably will be until all three girls are in school, which won't be for at least another five years. I'm the only source of income, and in case you didn't notice," Tony's voice was on the edge of despair, "this isn't exactly Buckingham Palace. I don't make a lot."

"Oh, Tony," Vera was trying her best to pacify.

"I just _can't,_" Shapiro shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's nothing personal." He turned to Mac and I, and then to Clay and Vera.

"You guys are the best friends I have. But . . . family needs to come first. Look, stay for lunch. Estrella makes some mean quesadillas, but I just can't take part in your plan. Again, I'm sorry."

A long prevailing silence followed the end of Shapiro's speech, which was then broken by the clearing of Clay's throat. "It's alright, Tony. That's your decision to make."

Tony nodded rather dubiously, and then cracked a watery smile. "So, anyone up for a game of cards before lunch?"

* * *

It seemed strange to be feeling so light without Hunter there. I was almost instantly flashbacked to four years ago, when I was unwed, a new parent, and had never even held my son. Shapiro and I would sit at the table and play repetitive games of cribbage for a cent per hole. Shapiro would always beat the dimes off me, but it just felt good to play, to do anything, really. It was at that time I'd also started smoking cigars just to have something to do. Smoking seemed to bring me back to the day where I was alive. And I meant really alive.

Now, a little over four years later Tony and I sat at his kitchen table in his miniscule house out in the bare necked country with his two small daughters in the next room and the wife he'd never thought he'd have cooking up a storm a yard or two away from us. Both of us previous bachelors were now a hundred percent domesticated with growing families of are own. Our previously dangerous and exciting jobs had been nullified to boring and usually desk jobs. Tony was now involved with insurance, and sat eight hours a day in a cubicle along with fifteen other men. He found it exciting that I was in the CIA. I sat at my desk and typed up reports or investigated through means of the internet. Fun.

But you could just tell as he rambled on about Mia spilling macaroni all over the kitchen floor and Cassie promptly swallowing it and how he and Estrella had freaked out and thought she might choke that he really truly enjoyed it. Yes, it was a truly eye-opening experience seeing a domesticated Shapiro. If there was ever a man born to be a bachelor, it was ex-Agent Anthony Shapiro, and here he was with two small daughters and another on the way, picking up the crayons off his plastic tiled kitchen floor. Yes, you could tell he wouldn't trade his life for any other in the world. The life he has, the life I had.

"Ah, I fold," Shapiro rolled his eyes as he threw his cards to the table with an unsatisfied growl. "Damn you, Azhad. You're quite the card shark."

Nysa grinned in response, "And damn you for being married, otherwise by now I would have wedded you ten times over." Yes, it was easy enough to say that Nysa and Tony were getting along quite well. "Hey, Vera," Tony called from across the table. "What's wrong? You're looking a little down."

"I'm fine," Vera snapped in firm assurance. I watched as Clay's grey eyes flickered to Vera for one long lingering moment before returning to his blackberry where he was fervently punching in letters and numbers.

"Hey, Tony, can I talk to you for a second?" Clay asked as he got up from the tabled.

Tony, leaned back in his chair with his feet up on the table, looked up. "Yeah, sure," he replied breezily and kicked himself up to his feet and left the room with Clay. From beside me, Mac stretched in her seat. She'd filled up on quesadillas and then promptly succumbed to a nutritionally induced slumber. I stroked her back gently as she laid back in the wooden chair, her head leaning against the side closest to me. As I tried my best to block out the voices of Nysa and Vera who were, yes, quarreling again, I could faintly hear the sounds of Clay's and Tony's voices.

"So that's Mia when she was born, huh?" Clay whispered, his hands jammed in his pockets as he stood opposite to the wall as pictures scattered the hallway. The colored picture showed a very sweaty Estrella holding a small dark haired baby with a grinning Tony beside her. "That's amazing."

"It really was," Tony, agreed nodding. "Twenty-two hours in labor. I thought I'd have to go in there and pull her out by the ankles," he joked and then sobered quickly. "Cassie was no better though. She was both longer and harder. Estrella insisted on giving birth to Cassandra naturally. That didn't blow over so well afterwards. This time, Trella's adamant on drugs being a definite part of the labor procedure."

"Smart move," Clay nodded and then walked to the next picture which was a recent photo – black and white – with Mia next to what Clay assumed was baby Cassie. She was holding the baby tightly in her small arms, and was grinning widely at the camera. She had her father's smile, broad and brightening.

"What if it was your kid?" Clay whispered abruptly.

Tony turned to focus on Webb. "Huh?"

"What if it was Mia that had been kidnapped, not Hunter Rabb," Clay elaborated slowly. "It easily could have been too. At the end there, you were just more involved if not more than Harm. Harm was dead, what damage could he do without causing complete pandemonium? You were right there in the heart of all the action. Feeding lies to who we thought were possible snitches, concocting tales for –"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Tony short-fused. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in before exhaling. "I know what I did. I was there, remember?" he bit sarcastically. His eyes flew to the ground. "I regret it now."

Clay was staring at him hard. "Do you?" he whispered carefully. "Do you really?" When Tony was silent, Clay continued. "Everything's a part of you now, Tony. Maybe, if there had never been an Abbas there would never be a you and Estrella, and consequentially there would never be Mia and Cassie. Everything from your past just adds up to your present, your future. Can you honestly tell me you want to change your present?"

Tony was silent, his eyes refusing to meet Webb's.

"I think you just answered my question," Clay said softly, his grey eyes falling on Tony. "You wouldn't, you know you wouldn't. You've got your own little heaven here. You've got a typical nine to five job where you go to work and earn money for the family, no traveling or shady deals, just straight business. You come home to two loving daughters and a wonderful wife. Food's hot on the stove, the house is neat and tidy. You've got it great here, everything you want. Then just imagine, in one split second, Mia disappeared. Just imagine, Tony."

Clay's words were spells upon Shapiro. He said nothing, but his eyes were now transfixed on the picture of Mia and Cassandra. He was lost in thought, his dark eyes whirling around the picture at a rather rapid speed.

"Wouldn't you do anything to get her back?" Clay whispered. Tony didn't respond. "Come on, Tony, wouldn't you do anything to get her back? Wouldn't you?"

Shapiro finally broke. He released a strangled sigh and his eyes fell to the ground, this wry pained grimace breaking out over his handsome face. "But it's not Mia," he said, his chest heaving with emotion. "It's not, and I don't want it to be."

"Then help us," Clay whispered immediately. "Help us make sure it's not Mia, or not anyone else. Please," Clay's voice was tender, begging. "We need your help. We can't do this without you."

Those last words rang in my ears as I sat on the edge of my seat, listening for Tony's response. _We can't do this without you … We can't do this without you … _If Webb said we couldn't do it, we really couldn't. Clay was the king of improvisation, he would know. I had no idea what Clay had planned, but I trusted him implicitly with these kind of affairs.

"Tony?" Clay whispered.

Shapiro released a shaky breath, his eyes shut tight, and shaking his head. "Damn you, Webb. You really know how to talk a guy into something."

"So you'll do it?" That was all that Clay cared about now.

Shapiro opened his dark eyes to meet Clay's great ones. He stared at him stubbornly. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound off-hand and casual but failing dismally. "I'll do it. But on one condition."

"What?" Clay demanded instantly.

"Next time you come around, we play cribbage for dollars not cents," Shapiro grinned.

"You'll rob me," Clay protested weakly but was met by Shapiro's stern glare. Clay relented with a heavily laden sigh "fine; dollars, not cents. But note the fact you're not only robbing me of my money, but consequentially my child."

"Ah, shut up, you filthy rich crook," Shapiro rolled his eyes as they both strolled back into the room. "I need all the peace and quiet I can get before we set out tonight."

"So you're in?" Mac asked, having just woken up from her siesta.

"Oh yeah," Tony replied, his eyes lingering on Webb's for one prevailing moment. "I'm in."


	12. The Silence of the Night

**A/N: Happy belated New Year! Sorry for posting this chapter a little late. I've been busy. Oh yeah, and for all those reading TLWL, I'll update soon on that one too. Major thanks to my brilliant beta, Pissed Off Poet 1!**

**The Silence of theNight**

**1326**

**Shapiro Driveway**

**Mac's POV**

I walk out into the throbbing autumn sunlight, instinctively shielding my eyes from the onslaught of sunlight. Like a cold wave, fear washed over me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I fought back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. Estrella Shaprio's lunch had been tasteful, lots of cheese and meat, which was what my typical diet consisted of. Nevertheless, I felt sick to my stomach. I kept thinking with every bite that I ate, Hunter was probably starving, and as every blast of hot sticky wind shook my body, the image of my baby locked in some cold cellar, his arms wrapped around his body in some sort of self-hug shivering flew to my mind. I shuddered against the blanket of heat that enveloped me.

"Okay, ladies and gents," Clay cleared his throat, now quite used to issuing these sort of random group speeches. "We've got two cars, my Jeep and Shapiro's van. We'll go three and three just to make life simple. Nysa, Harm, and I will go in the Jeep, and Vera, Mac, and Shapiro can take the van. Okay?"

"Okay," I dully repeated with everyone else. I cast a quick look in Vera's direction to find her dark eyes trained on Clay as he pulled on Nysa's arm in the direction of the Jeep. I could just hear the swear words smoldering on the tip of her tongue as she grimaced to keep it all bottled up inside of her, just like I was with my fear for Hunter. Despite the obvious differences between Vera and me, our personalities were rather alike. We're both smart, fiery, and have a self-containing quality that restrains our most violent emotions and bottles them up deep within us.

But I have Harm. That was the one major difference I could think of between Vera and me when it came to emotion. I had someone who I could constantly rely on, someone who no matter how many times I fall would catch me. Someone I could go to for support, someone I could confide in, someone who I didn't have to spell it out for but could just understand. Three years ago, I thought that person for Vera was Clay, but every day since I've doubted myself more and more on that fact. It seems like the closer together they are, the more they hurt each other, and the farther apart – the less they're able to forget about the past. In some crude way, they're almost like Harm and I years ago. So close it hurt, so far it broke us.

"Can I drive?" Vera's voice is quiet but hard. Shapiro casts one long look at Vera and then shrugs his shoulders, tossing her the keys as I clambered into the back seat and he followed suit.

"Go ahead," Shapiro, said as both of us put our belts on. I tried to shut my eyes, to shut myself off from the world. For a few perilous minutes when I was inside Tony's house, it felt like it had three years ago, when Hunter still slept in a bayonet next to my bed and Harm and I were newlyweds. Now that I look back on it, we were drunk on happiness. Harm was a living breathing man again, and the family I'd always wanted was slowly piecing itself together. I had felt that when I walked into Tony's house and saw his impregnated wife and two small daughters. It was a feeling of limitless possibility.

Sure, his wife was tired, so was Shapiro. He didn't act it, but I could just tell the way only a mother could. I remember him all those years ago, how lively and energetic he was, so carefree and alive. Now he was somewhat restrained, contained by the fact he had a family counting on him, mouths to feed, money to earn. Danger wasn't a party of Tony's game any more, nor was it mine.

Life just sucks.

"Hey," Tony's whisper fell very softly on my ears. His dark eyes were burning holes in my turned away head. He touched my shoulder very gently, my eyes leapt up to meet his. "Are you okay?"

_I'm alright. I guess. I'm okay. Yes. _But my mouth was frozen. I could just imagine how I looked to him, like a deer caught in headlights. I sat there in the backseat with him, my eyes building bridges to his and I was frozen. _Are you okay? _His question kept repeating itself. I kept seeing Hunter being dragged away in a body bag, his name being etched into his tombstone, maybe in the grave next to little Sarah.

Large unrestrained tears welled up in my eyes. I turned my head so Shapiro wouldn't see, but Tony had. "Oh, Mac," he breathed and I felt his arm circle around my shoulders. Slowly and silently, tears drained themselves from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I just crumbled.

"Oh, god, Mac, I'm sorry . . ." Shapiro kept whispering repeatedly. He held me somewhat awkwardly for we were both still in our seatbelts. "I'm so, so, so sorry . . . I wish this never happened. I wish . . ."

I was crying too hard to hear what else he had to say. My body wracked in broken sobs. I started hiccupping from the amount of water my eyes were now pouring out. I could feel Tony's hand on my back as he patted me in hopes of soothing my hiccups, no luck.

"What if he's dead?" my voice strangled out the question I'd been daring to ask all day. I couldn't ask Harm; I could just see his face now if I'd dared utter said statement. His eyes would grow cold, his features suddenly etched in stone. I couldn't even think of the possibilities if Hunter was dead. He was all that had kept me together those years ago when Harm was still "dead." I had no one but Hunter and Jake. Jake had kept me sane, but Hunter had been my reminder for everything that had been and everything that would be. If I just could hang on . . .

"What if he's dead, Tony," I was on the edge of hysteria. My voice had risen to an abnormally high level and I was choking so much on my tears, my words were barely comprehensible. "What if Abbas has already killed him? What if we're leading into a trap? What if . . . what if . . ."

"Shh," Tony's voice was soothing but not dampening. His arms could not keep me from shaking just like his voice could not keep me from crying. "It's gonna be okay, Mac. We're going to find Hunter. He'll be fine, we'll find him . . . we'll find him . . ."

"That's what everyone keeps saying!" my sadness had paved the way for burning anger. "Everyone says that!" I cried, my voice scratched my from swallowing tears and my whole body strained from the fear that weighed itself heavily upon my shoulders. "Everyone says it's going to be alright, that we're going to find Hunter. The cops, Clay, Vera, Harriet, Harm, and you too . . ." I shook. "But what if it's not, what if we don't find Hunter, or what if he's dead? What do _I_ do?"

"Mac . . ." Tony breathed out slowly.

"I can't do this!" Finally, my tears had run out and now I sat there shaking, feeling so empty I could start crying all over again. I wiped my hands across my wet cheeks, and rubbing my eyes until they'd become an agitated red color. "Oh god . . ." I exhaled shakily. "I can't do this. I can't."

Tony was quiet for a very long prevailing moment. "Hey," he whispered slowly. His dark eyes fell on mine. "Yes, you can. You can, Mac, for Hunter. You're a kick ass marine and an even better mother. I know you won't just stand by while Abbas takes hostage of your son. I know it and you know it too." When I was silent, Shapiro ploughed on. "Come on, Mac, don't give up now. You're so close. We're so close. Give up now and you're going to regret it for the rest of your life," Tony breathed heavily. "You don't want that for yourself . . . and I don't want it for you either."

I bit my lower lip and was very silent for a long lingering second and then I nodded. "I know, I just . . . ugh . . ." I exhaled sharply. I closed my eyes very hard. "I'm just afraid that I'm not going to be able to pull it together, that I'm gonna screw it up for Hunter. And I just couldn't … live with myself if I ended up doing that."

"You won't, Mac," Shapiro's voice comes in steadier than my own. "I've never known you to disappoint those who you love, and I don't believe I ever shall."

A pained smile broke out on my tear stained face. I released a shaky laugh. "Thanks, Tony."

He patted me amiably on my back, the seriousness that was once on his face washing away to his usual expression of good humor. "Anytime, Mac," he said, the smile on his face brighter than a 100 watt light bulb, "any time."

* * *

**2032**

**Target X**

**Harm's POV**

Clay's rough voice cutting through the uneasy sleep I'd fallen into, "we're here," I stirred gently, cracking open my reluctant eyelids. Darkness consumed me. It was only eight thirty, but the autumn sky had plunged into an eerie black tone. Stars pierced the cape of night. I shivered. The air was warm, the wind cold, the silence of the surrounding space was deafening.

"Is that it?" I asked groggily, sitting up from laying position in the back seat. I could see off in the distance a dark slightly deformed shape. A building of some sort, I guessed. "Are you sure this is it?"

"Yes," Clay's voice was firm. He opened up the door to the Jeep and turned to the seat next to him where Nysa Azhad laid almost limply, her head resting on the seatbelt her chest both rising and falling as she gently breathed. "Nysa," he said almost gently. "Ny, you've got to wake up."

He stroked her face almost gently as he shook her to try to wake up. "Come on, Nysa, you've got to get up now." Nysa merely rolled over closer to Clay's hand and snuggled in near him. For one split second, I saw in Clay's usually solid grey eyes, a softer shadow. Some sort of twisted kind of compassion betook him. "Nysa," he whispered more quickly. "Come on, Ny, it's time."

Nysa's eyelids fluttered open. She looked around slowly. "Oh," she whispered and then undid her seatbelt so she could stretch. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night and we were up early this morning. I guess I just . . . drifted off . . ."

"It's alright," Clay cut Nysa's apology short, ruffling her dark hair almost fondly. "Harm dozed off too. It's perfectly f –"

"Are you two going to stay in the Jeep all day?" Vera's voice cut glass. All three of our heads jumped up to see one very intimidating Vera Azhad, her dark eyes shining through the open window next to Nysa. I suddenly realized what an awkward position Vera had found Clay in. Nysa leaning in towards Clay, Clay's hand in her hair – and by the look on Vera's face, she was deriving a conclusion fast.

"Hey, Ver," Nysa's voice is sickeningly sweet. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"I'll bet," Vera's voice matches Nysa, but with a very obviously nasty undertone. "Well, 007," she address Clay sharply. "Are we ready to move?"

For a minute, I think Clay is speechless but then – "Yeah, we're ready, everyone out."

I clambered out of the Jeep quickly and made my way over to Shapiro's van. From the look on Clay's face, I knew he was just grateful to be out alive considering the rather serrated edge in Vera's voice. But beneath the cold and brutal exterior, I could hear the hurt in it. Oh yes, Clay and Vera were the rather classic Romeo and Juliet – modern day, with a bit more of a twisted plot. They hurt when they were apart, and hurt each other when together.

"Okay, we're going to split into two teams," Clay's voice was quick and authoritative. "First team will take Target X at the front; second team will round at the back. I don't think it's a good idea having warlike- talkies, that's like a calling card for 'there are more people' if anyone is caught. However, we won't be totally without communication. These," I pulled out two small rectangular remote like looking things. "These are wired to our cell phones. Press the red button here for Danger and the green button if you need assistance. Pressing those buttons is the equivalent of calling one of us on our cells, only instead of ringing our cells will vibrate. That way we know if the other team's in trouble, okay?"

"Got it," Vera said shortly. Clay's eyes leapt up to hers, but she remained cool and passive. Operational and very _Stepford Wife_-ish. It scared me.

"Alright, let's just split Nysa, Shapiro and me for the team at the front," Clay said when everyone else was silent. "And Harm, Mac, and Vera can go around the back."

"I want to be up front," I interjected. My blue eyes blazed, "I wanna get Abbas and I'm not going to be able to do that going around the back."

"Harm," Clay spoke very calmly and rationally. "We need strong force at the back. And it's better this way."

"Better for you," I hissed menacingly. "Hunter's not your son."

"Harm," Mac's voice cut through me gently, tugging on my arm. "Harm, come on."

"Hey, I CARE about Hunter," Webb struck back with a surprising amount of force. "I don't want to see him dead any more than you do, so that's why I'm coming up with a PLAN."

"Oh, so that's what you call it?" I bit back wildly. "A plan; you're risking my son's life on this PLAN. And dammit, I want to be a part of it!"

"You ARE!" Clay hollered back.

"Damn the both of you!" Vera's intense whisper drowned both men's voices. "If you yell any louder whoever's in that damned mad house is going to hear you. We're far away, but I know neither of you want to take that risk _do you?"_

Her eyes nail us. "Fine," I said bitterly, grasping Mac's hand and pulling us off in the direction of the back route to the house. "Consider the back covered."

Clay pulled his thick leather jacket a little farther up his shoulders. "You can thank me later."

"That's enough," Vera cut off all contact with the other team as she scrambled to catch up with Mac and me. I clung to Mac with a sudden intensity I'd never anticipated. She seemed so fragile and small beneath my arms, something that I'd never quite sensed coming from Mac. The way she looked at me, fear was shadowed over her eyes. It was fear, fear like I hadn't seen before. Back in Paraguay, we were running for our lives, but Mac had at least the feel about her to crack jokes all the way through – just like in Russia with the KGB on our tails. But this was different and we both knew it. There could be no jokes when it came to Hunter's life.

I squeezed her hand tightly. For a split second, I thought about telling her it was okay, that everything would be all right. But what if Hunter never came back, what if we lost the most important thing in our lives? What if . .

"You've got your guns?" Vera's whisper filtered into my ear.

I felt my heart rate triple. Darkness consumed me. I gripped the gun at my belt and nodded swiftly to her. I watched Mac draw out her weapon too. I recognized it as the gun we kept in the house (locked drawer in our room, we never let Hunter near it). It was my old gun. Through the blackness that swirled infectiously around us, Mac's skin stood out pale and ghost-like. I knew what was going through her mind; it was the same message that traveled through mine. _This was different from any other mission . . . we had a lot more to lose . . ._

"Can you see Clay?" Vera whispered. I suddenly realized that Mac and I hadn't been responding to whatever she was saying. We were both lost in our own worlds. Vera squinted through the obscurity of night. "I can't see them any more. For a while I thought I had Shapiro pegged, but he's disappeared."

"Well, that's a good thing then," Mac's voice sounded oddly different. "We don't want anyone seeing us."

"Yeah," Vera murmured almost to herself. "That's right."

The three of us dove into a throaty silence, broken only by the sound of the wind on our skin. Neither Mac nor Vera's hair was tied-up, and their vibrant locks swirled wildly in the crisp autumn wind. Never had Vera looked so focused, never had Mac looked more scared. Never before was I so numb to the world around me.

"Have you guys got your little . . . beeper things?" Vera was used to doing the once over. I looked at her. Her eyes were wild, her body tense, but you could immediately see this was right for her. This was what she had to be doing. Out here in the field, gun in her hand, fresh night air biting her skin, this was where Vera belonged. Not behind a desk in the CIA Headquarters, typing up old records like Clay currently had her doing. No, Vera was a born and bred agent and a good one too.

"I've got mine," Mac said strongly. Both women stared at me.

"Oh yeah, and I've got mine," I whispered in return. I huddled a little closer to Mac. The day had been hot, but the night was chilly, and I was clothed in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. Mac, sensing my lack of warmth, leaned closer to me and rubbed her warm hands up and down my arms for as much heat as comfort. I loved her for it.

As we drew perilously close to the house, an even deader silence became us. The only sound I heard was that of Mac breathing, and that was merely because her face lay inches away from mine. Vera now had her gun stretched out in front of her, her grip firm and her head up. We moved slowly, keeping to the dirt path that wound itself around the hill and to the house, the sound of the grass rustling against the wind unnerved me. Silence never could be more deafening than at that moment.

"There's a door," Mac whispered so softly her voice was almost lost against the wind. And indeed, there was. Against the solid brick wall at the back of the house, there was an old rusted barn-like door. Slowly and strategically, Vera took the left side and I took the right, Mac backed up behind me. I put my hand on the knob, Vera's eyes connected with mine. Slowly, she mouthed '_Three . . . two . . . one . . .'_

_Go_.

I flung open the door at the same time Vera leapt in, her gun still outstretched in her arms. All was still. No lights were on, no candles aflame, nothing. Vera crept inside followed by Mac. Then me she jerked her gun around every corner, but nothing moved. I took one good look around the room. There was a refrigerator, old with rust growing on the hinges. The table that sat off to one side had newspapers scattered around its face, and old mugs with dried coffee on the bottom lingered around the counter.

'_The kitchen,' _Mac mouthed to me, I nodded. From the moment I'd thrown open the door to the house, I expected something, something loud, something big – maybe a gunshot, maybe Abbas himself brandishing a knife, maybe a screaming Hunter. All those horrifying scenes had played through my mind as I'd flung open the door, but the silence . . . silence was not what I'd expected. Silence was more terrifying.

As I stepped onto the hard wood floor of the hallway, my footsteps echoed. Vera and Mac looked at me. Both were dresses in soft running shoes, mine were loud hard-soled dress shoes. I leaned down and pulled them off, leaving them at the corner by the counter. We continued without a sound. For one lingering minute, I thought this would last an eternity. We were creeping ant-like down the halls, the dead of the night echoing in our ears. Then . . .

We heard it.

It was a faint rustling, no more than a few papers on a desk. But there it was a sound. Vera's ears instantly perked up. From beside me I felt Mac stiffen. I'm sure I did the same. Vera's finger was rigid on the trigger. We kept our bodies close to the wall as Vera lead us single file down the hallway. None of us dared breathe . . .

There it was again, a little more than a slight movement this time. It was uneven, pausing, but still there. My heart raced. I could feel sweat trickle down from the top of my forehead to the nape of my neck. Fear grew cold and poisonously within me. My gun threatened to slip from my sweaty palms. The silence screamed in my ears. I could see Hunter lying on a bed somewhere, blood trickling down his body. I could see Abbas standing next to him, a gun pointed at my son's forehead, his insane cackling drowning the room. I could see the moon hanging low above the house as the life of a child slipped from the world's grasp. I could see Abbas's smile as he finished Hunter off. Blood thirsty, merciless, and loving every minute of it . . .

Footsteps.

They resounded in my ears. There were footsteps sure enough, snapping, and echoing down the halls. Mac released a strangled breath. This was it, for the last time. This was the end, the end to this madhouse of cruelty, to the plague of silence, the end to our worry, our doubt. _Our fear, _this was the end to the troubles that shadowed us. The end, that spared us from our dreams and their reality. Finally, the end . . .

Vera rounded the corner, her gun slashing out in front of her. At the same time, Clayton Webb threw himself in Vera's aim of fire. Both guns jumped out in front of the other's face. Time stood still.

"Vera," Clay breathed raggedly. His gun lingered just before Vera's nose. My heart refused to stop hammering.

"Oh, god, Clay," Vera lowered her gun slowly from just across Clay's right eye. Both of them stared at each other in cruel confusion. The adrenaline in the room throbbed. From behind Clay, I could see Shapiro and Nysa, their skin palely glowing in the lack of light, so much for splitting into two teams.

"I'm sorry," Clay whispered. He was shaking.

"Don't be," Vera whispered quickly in return. She looked numb. "It happens."

"Bu –" Clay began but Shapiro cut him off.

"What's that?" his drawn out breath filled the room. Silence became the whole group. Faintly, very, very faintly, I could hear the sound of beeping. My eyes connected with Mac's. Shapiro, losing all taste for quiet and slowness, he ran down the hall. We all followed him running. I gripped my gun so hard I thought it would melt into my hand. The beeping grew louder, quicker. Shapiro was racing. We all were. I could feel adrenaline rush through my veins, bursting with an incredible amount of electricity. Shapiro flew down another hall, turning so sharply, that I was nearly thrown off course. Then . . .

He halted. Vera slammed into Shapiro so hard that, I nearly tripped over Vera. I grabbed onto Mac just to make sure she wouldn't fall. The beeping echoed through the hallway. "What is it?" Vera whispered raggedly as she pulled herself up off the floor.

Tony turned his head very slowly to face us, and it was at that moment I realized the danger we were in. His eyes were wide, his dark pupils strangle hollow. "There's a bomb!" he suddenly screamed. "They've got this whole place bombed!"

It took a millisecond for Clay to react. "Move it, guys, move it!" he shrieked.

Nysa needed no coaxing. She flew back down the hall we came through, Shapiro hot on her heels. Vera started to move but Mac flew down the other direction. I stood where I was, "Mac!" I called after her. She was running the wrong way. "MAC!"

"Hunter!" she was screaming at the top of her lungs. "HUNTER!"

"Oh, dammit!" Clay swore loudly and viciously as we, both tore after Mac, the silence of the night forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, that was a mean cliffie, I'll admit it. Ah well, no regrets. **


	13. Can't Afford to Die

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm back, and I swear I'm here to stay. I know I know, long time no see. I had exams, then term projects, and just an incredible amount of crap I needed to plough through. Thanks for holding on. Oh yeah, and TLWL was deleted (I got an awful lot of PMs after this happened). The ff net deleted it, not me, and then they froze my account for a week so I couldn't have updated even if I wanted to. Anyways, skip the long tragic story;here's the next chapter, and I swear the updates will be quicker now that I've got spring break coming my way. **

_**Flashback to Last Chapter (Harm's POV)**_

_Tony turned his head very slowly to face us and it was at that moment I realized the danger we were in. His eyes were wide, his dark pupils strangle hollow. "There's a bomb!" he suddenly screamed. "They've got this whole place bombed!"_

_It took a millisecond for Clay to react. "Move it, guys, move it!" he shrieked._

_Nysa needed no coaxing. She flew back down the hall we came through, Shapiro hot on her heels. Vera started to move but Mac flew down the other direction. I stood where I was, "Mac!" I called after her. She was running the wrong way. "MAC!"_

"_Hunter!" she was screaming at the top of her lungs. "HUNTER!"_

"_Oh, dammit!" Clay swore loudly and viciously as we, both tore after Mac, the silence of the night forgotten._

**Can't Afford to Die**

**2054**

**Target X**

**Mac's POV**

"HUNTER!" My voice is shrill, and clogs my throat. I can feel my body break out into a sweat. Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I'd stopped going to the gym and I hadn't properly worked out in months. Right now wasn't exactly the ideal time to start. "Hunter!"

Panic floods my body. I'm moving fast, and frantically. I throw myself down the halls, flinging open each and every door. In my mind, I can hear the seconds left rapidly descending. I'm running too fast for my mind to think straight. I move with an incredible sense of urgency, graceful had the situation not been so serious. "Hunter! Can you hear me?" I shout.

Very dimly at the back of my mind, I register the fact that I can hear my name being called. Harm. Even though all voices are completely muddled in my head at the moment, I know it's him. Call it a sixth sense, but I always know when he's calling me, or when he's near me. Years ago, our connection was so strong; sometimes I felt I could even hear his thoughts. But I've realized something now, after we've married and had our son. Desperation makes even the most insane things sound completely plausible.

"Hunter!" I was dangerously close to crying. My whole body was shaking. I thought of the first moment I'd held him, so awkwardly in my shaking hands, and I'd vowed silently I'd never let anything happen to him. He was so small and dependant in my arms, it almost hurt to hold him. It hurt to know how much he needed me, because he did. He needed me to survive. With Harm out of the picture, I was the only one he had left.

For a while in those days, I would just lay awake at night, watching Hunter sleep in his little bassinet. I would cry. Long thick wet tears would dribble down my face, and I'd barely make a sound. I'd cry because I'd brought a child into this world who I thought would grow up without a father, who would live in a sheltered world in which the only person he had was his mother, who was far too preoccupied with a million other things. I wept for all I could give him, and all that I couldn't. I would keep him safe, I thought. That was the one thing that the world couldn't rob me of, his safety.

"Oh god," I was crying. Deep jolting sobs racked my body. "Hunter!" I threw open one of the doors. The room was dark. I practically fell in. "Hunter? HUNTER!" I caught myself in a furious cry of sheer panic, dashing back into the hall. "HUNTER!"

"Mac!"

There was Harm; I could see him dimly in the shadowed hall. He was running towards me. "Mac, we've got to get out of here!" His words fought to make sense in my mind. "Mac, we've got to go or we're dead!"

His last words echoed in my mind. _We've got to go or we're dead. _He grabbed me tight by my arm and jerked me forward. "Come on!" he said, and moved to pull me with him but I dug my heels into the ground.

"You go!" My voice was abnormally high pitched. I broke free of Harm's grasp, and flung open the next door. "Hunter!" I was calling. "Hunter!"

Utter desperation overwhelmed me. I had to turn back. I knew I had to. I thought of Harm and how sick with worry he must be. I thought of Vera and her sister who by now were surely back in the Jeep. I thought of Shapiro who we'd dragged into this mess even though he'd protested quite violently. He had a wife who did not work two young daughters and a third on the way. He couldn't afford to die. Then I thought of Webb, who out of them all had been the best and most reliable help. I'd seen him with Harm, he wasn't out yet. He had a son too, a year younger than Hunter. What the hell was Clay still doing in this mad house?

"Hunter!" I'm crying. "Oh, please, God," I'm whispering at the same time. When did I become religious? As a child, I'd often prayed. I'd prayed for a better life, for a little peace, for a lot of things I knew I'd never get. I'd turned my back on God when I'd hit my teenage years. I stopped believing. There couldn't be a God out there; surely there was no one cruel enough to leave me without a mother and a drunken father. My attitude had changed since my angry adolescent years. I'd grown.

"Oh, Hunter, please," I was whispering rabidly. My hand flew to the doorknob of the last and final door. I threw it open and darkness immediately surrounded me. There was not a speck of moonlight to be shed upon this room. "Hunter?"

For one split, prolonged second, my heart froze inside my chest. My mind buzzed with restrained activity. I was sweating bullets. My hand grasped for the side of the door. "Hunter?" I called again feebly.

And this time there was an answer.

"Mmm . . . m," was a slow whispered response, a cough. "Mom?"

It took just that one word, to throw me into a complete and utter jittering mess. I sobbed so hard, my voice began to crack. Out of the darkness, I could see him walking towards me. The first crack of moonlight that met his skin showed me how much he changed. It had only been a few days, but I swear he was taller. His skin seemed pale, and he looked abnormally thin with clothes that I knew were not his, draped over his body. The most noticeable difference, however, was his hair. He was golden blonde to the root.

"Hunter!" I pulled him into my arms and crushed his small body to mine.

"Mac!" Harm hadn't left when I'd told him to get out. I should have known he wouldn't, but I still felt surprise to suddenly see him beside me.

"Daddy!" Hunter ran into Harm's legs, clipping himself to Harm's left leg. "Dad!"

Harm moved swiftly. With one arm, he grabbed Hunter up underneath the stomach, and swung him up to his shoulders. "Mac, we've got to move!" he was hollering at me though there was no background sound to overpower his voice. "Now!"

He's already running with Hunter above his shoulders. Hunter ducks as we run down a hallway with a particularly low ceiling. I'm panting as I run alongside Harm. I swear, this kind of excitement isn't meant for pregnant women.

The ticking grows louder as we flee by the hallway with the bomb. My heart pounds furiously within my chest. _We're running out of time . . . _I looked up and down the far hallway where we'd entered the house. I thought of the maze of corridors we'd walked down. _We'll never make it._

Harm seemed to come to the same disparaging conclusion. He ran over to the side wall by the kitchen. For a house that held a bomb just seconds away from exploding, the kitchen looked fairly normal with its squat little fridge and clean smooth counters. Harm leaned against the window and instead of pulling it open as I expected him to do, he just reeled his elbow forward and smashed the glass to pieces.

"C'mon," he grunted and picking up Hunter once more, he shoved him roughly through the grass. Hunter fell through the window and onto the ground below, crying as he fell against the glass shards.

"Is he . . .?" I began to ask if he was okay, but was cut off as Harm quickly began to break away at the rest of the glass pain. My eyes traveled to his arm where I could see a pool of blood beginning to form at his elbow.

"Go," he said hurriedly, pushing at my lower back as he drew me forward to the window.

"But," I began. I wanted him to go first.

"No time for buts," Harm retorted and pushed me through the window. He had not meant to be rough, but I was thrown into the wind anyway. I fell through, breaking what little glass Harm hadn't, and hit the ground hard. I groaned and clutched at my stomach. Somewhere within, I was sure my baby felt they'd just gone through a ride on a roller coaster.

"Hunter?" I was groggy as I looked up. I was seeing double. "Hunter?"

"C'mon, Mac!" I could hear the urgency in Harm's voice. He was through the window too, but had landed on his feet almost cat-like. He had his strong hands under my armpits, and was hauling me up from the sheer strength of his muscles. I faintly looked ahead of me, to see Clay running with Hunter in his arms towards the Jeep which Vera had pulled up closer to the house. This was either very smart, or very stupid I realized. Smart in the way it was closer for us to run to from the house, but stupid in the way that if the house exploded right this very instant, all of us would be consumed in hellish flames.

"Come on!" Harm was hollering at me harder. He was running too fast for me, and dragging my arm limply behind him.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" I screamed back, and really pushed on the power. My legs felt long and disconnected from my body, moving so fast I felt they'd break off my body. The Jeep seemed closer suddenly. I then realized that Shapiro and his van had already disappeared, and I thought good for them. At least two of our team would return home tonight.

"Get in!" Clay hollered as we reached the Jeep. He flung open the back door, where he was sitting with Hunter, and then pulled himself into the front seat. Harm shoved me forcefully in, and then leaped into the backseat with Hunter and I, shutting the door behind him. Vera's foot slammed on the gas pedal and we went flying.

"Mommy?" Hunter whispered hollowly. I looked down at him. His nose was bleeding badly, and blood dripped down from his chin and onto the blue plaid buttoned shirt he was wearing.

"Oh, Hunter," I whispered with emotion. Tears came to my eyes again. I clutched him to my chest, my hands in his now honey colored hair, and my body shaking to the rhythm of my sobs.

Vera was gaining speed. We flew along the dirt road. "C'mon . . ." she was whispering to the car, more than anyone. "C'mon . . ."

Harm had his hands gripped to the seat. "Any second now," he whispered apprehensively. "Any second." He reached his arm around me and rested his hand on Hunter's shoulder, squeezing the three of us tightly together.

Were we far enough away? I turned around to look through the rear view mirror, and saw Hunter do the same. I quickly turned back, and turned his head away too. I held his head close to my heart. He leaked blood onto my shirt. I didn't care. The glass had nicked his skin all down his arms and legs and had caught in his clothing and hair. He was undoubtedly bruised from the fall through the window, and his nose wouldn't stop bleeding. But he was alive.

"Mommy, what's happening?" Hunter could tell the anxiety in the car. "Mommy?"

"Shh, Hunter, shh," I tried to calm my agitated son but he struggled out from underneath my arms. Then the next thing I knew he was sobbing brokenly into my arms. "Hunter, what's wrong?" I whispered to him, kissing every inch of his face that wasn't covered in blood.

"Nothing," he whispered in return, shaking his head, "nothing." He looked up at me with those big bright blue eyes of his, and then issued the most heartbreaking smile I'd ever seen in my entire life, even with his father. "You came back for me."

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the car. The Jeep shook and swerved off the road, with Vera struggling to control it. She pulled it to the right sharply and the Jeep skidded to a halt, dirt flying madly around the tires in all directions. I kept my head tucked under Harm's arm, with Hunter cradled in my lap. For a long moment, no one spoke. We could hear fire crackling, and the sound of birds scattering across the night sky. Our chests were heaving with emotion. I could barely breathe. And then –

"Everybody . . . everybody okay?" Clay panted from the front seat.

It took me a long moment to reply. "Yeah," I said. My voice was uneven. "We're . . ." I gulped. "We're fine." My hand stroked Hunter's hair. "Vera?"

Silence.

"Vera, you okay?"

Vera cleared her throat kind of shakily. She nodded swiftly. "Yeah . . . I'm okay." She seemed unsure of it, though. "I'm alright." I watched her as she outstretched both her arms and flexed all her fingers. Her skin was white as a sheet.

I looked up and out the back window. Where once the old grand house stood, was a shivering mass of flame eaten walls. I kept Hunter down beside me. He didn't need to see his dying prison.

"Oh, oh god . . ." I said, suddenly shaking. "I don't . . . I don't feel so good."

"We're gonna," Clay gulped. "We're gonna go to a hospital. I think all of us need to get checked out by someone. We're . . ." Clay was having trouble stringing his words together. "We're not in the greatest shape."

"Yeah . . ." I whispered woozily. Nausea overcame me. "Whoa," I whispered, and then suddenly titled my head back as the world around me was devoured by complete and utter darkness.

* * *

**0014**

**St. Elmer's Hospital **

**Harm's POV**

"Hey, angel," I whispered warmly as I watched Mac's eyelids flutter open. I stroked her hair gently. "I was worried about you for a minute there."

"Hmm?" Mac whispered. She was still pretty groggy, I guess. "What happened?"

"You passed out when we were driving to the hospital," I explained gently. I settled into my chair beside her bed. Clay had rushed us into the Emergency Room, with both of us carrying Mac. She was the first one admitted on rushed priority, and then one by one we all eventually got to see a doctor. After Mac, Hunter was the first. Though Hunter's injuries were skin deep and minute, he looked a lot worse off than the rest of us, his clothing being drenched in blood and all.

"Where's . . .?" Mac began, struggling to sit up in her bed. "Where's Hunter?"

"Shapiro came and met us at the hospital about two hours ago," I whispered, reaching for a glass of water one of the nurse's had left Mac at her bed side table and handing it to her. "He took Vera and Hunter home. Poor Hunter was asleep as soon as his head touched the car seat. He was exhausted, and Vera was no better off –"

"Is Hunter okay?" Mac interrupted me.

"He's fine," I reassured her. "A few skin cuts, a hell of a lot of bruises, and a bit of dried blood in his lungs from the nosebleed, but the doctor says he'll be fine. A week of healing will clear the marks up, and the dried blood should go away within the next day." I caught her worried glance. "He'll be _fine, _Mac."

"I know," she whispered, more to herself than me. "I know that. I know." Her mind flashed to her next subject. "So Clay's still here?" she asked.

"Yes," I whispered softly. "He's waiting on us."

"You're going?" Mac was hurt by the thought.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "WE'RE going. The doctor said you just passed out from the rush of things. For a while, I was really worried that my pushing you out the window . . ." my voice faltered within my throat. "That maybe I'd hurt the baby . . ."

"Oh, god," Mac sat up suddenly. "Is the baby okay?" I was silent one second too long. "Harm, is she okay?"

"Calm down," I whispered soothingly to her. "Yes, she's perfectly f –" Then I stopped. "Wait," I said, tripping over my words. "She . . .?"

"Oh, lord," Mac leaned back exhaustedly in the hospital bed. "I didn't tell you yet, did I?" The look on my face gave her answer. "I went for the ultrasound the day you left." Mac cracked a weary smile. "It's a girl, Harm. We're having a girl."

I was stuttering. "Are you . . . are you . . . _serious_?" I asked. This absolutely incredulous feeling seized me. "A _girl_?"

"A real live girl," Mac assured me with an amused smile at my amazement.

I gave her a sly grin. "Alexandra?" I asked.

"Jessica?" she repeated back to me.

I shook my head, laughing at the fight we'd had a million times over. "You keep campaigning, Mackenzie," I said softly.

"You bet your six, I will," Mac grinned back at me. She looked around the little white room. "So when do I get out of here, sailor?"

I got up on my feet. "Right now, if you want. The doctors say your condition isn't critical. You're just exhausted, and the best remedy for that is some quality down time at home. You're already checked out, jarhead."

"Really?" In all my previous hospital experiences, they want to keep you longer than you've ever wanted. "I can go?"

"Yeah, in fact, I told Webb we'd meet him in the parking lot five minutes ago," I said, and helped Mac out of the bed. "God, I can't wait to get to Shapiro's house."

"Oh yeah?" Mac asked, following me down the hall. "Why's that?"

"I can't wait to tell Hunter he's going to have a little sister," I said. I was really truly excited about the prospect of having a daughter. Sure, another son would have been great too, but I was a diverse man. It was nice to change it up a little every now and then.

"Harm, Hunter will be asleep," Mac quashed my dreams of telling Hunter that night.

"We could wake him up?" I meekly suggested but Mac shook her head.

"He's had quite enough for tonight," she said sighing. She rested her head against my shoulder. "Lord knows what Abbas did to him when he had Hunter . . ." Mac bit her lip. "Let him rest," she said with conviction.

"Yeah," I said, as we entered the hospital parking lot. I immediately caught sight of Webb in Shapiro's car, and waved him over. I looked down at Mac, and smiled warmly at her. "Come on," I said, opening the door of the car for her. "Let's go home to our son."

* * *

**A/N: Review if you'd like. Encouragement is appreciated, and questions are always welcome. **


	14. The Way We Were

**A/N: Reposted TLWL for all that are interested. Spring break's officially started, so count on a lot more updates posted a whole lot quicker. **

**The Way We Were**

**0048**

**Shapiro Residence **

**Vera's POV**

I was lying sprawled across the white living room futon and under the embrace of several thickly knitted quilts by the time I saw the light from the car's headlights pulling up to the driveway. I shifted a little on the futon and raised my head so I could see through the front window. Through the dim light from the front porch, I could make out the shadows of three moving figures. There was the little _click _of the key turning in the door, and then I heard Clay's, Harm's, and Mac's voices whispering calmly in the hall.

I rolled over in my futon, but closer to the door. The living room and front hallway were separated by a wall with two rosewood French doors, and I could just make out their voices from behind the wood.

"Tony set up a room for you guys in the spare room . . ." I could hear Clay saying. "Just down the hall to your left, with the bathroom right across from it. Your luggage is already in there."

Mac asked something I couldn't quite make out, but Clay replied with, "Hunter's sleeping in Mia's room, apparently, she has a bunk bed." I listened closer, and could hear more whispering. "He's FINE, Mac. In the hospital, we were more worried about you than him . . ." Another pause. "Yes, you can see him. Just quietly, they're both sound asleep . . ."

There was the shuffling of feet, and then I could only hear Harm's and Clay's voices. "You guys gonna go to bed now?" Clay was asking Harm. His voice was a bit louder than before.

"Yeah," Harm said, kind of casually. "We're gonna hit the sack. Today's been . . ." there was a catch in his words. "Today's been kind of trying. And Mac . . . well, I think she's taking it the worst out of all of us. This is to be expected, of course."

Harm seemed to be tripping over his words. "I guess I've just got to watch her these next few days." There was a kind of pain to his voice. "I don't know how we're going to do this, Clay. With Abbas out there . . . God, Hunter was nearly scattered into a zillion pieces tonight. I don't want to go into the witness protection program again. I don't, and I don't want Mac or Hunter to either."

"Harm, calm down," Clay's voice was strangely soothing. "You know the witness protection program is our very last resort. Look, Abbas fled tonight, Harm. He fled. If he wanted to punish you, he would have prolonged the kidnapping. He would have sent you photos of Hunter in pain. He would have killed you in front of him. But no, he gave you a way out."

"What do you mean?" There was a distinctive growl to Harm's words. "He tried to BLOW HIM UP, CLAY!"

"I know, I know, I get that," was Clay's terse whisper. "But don't you see, Harm? You LIVED. You, Mac, and Hunter LIVED. Had Abbas been serious about the assassination, there was no way you could have possibly saved Hunter. I know you don't want to hear this Harm, but you've got to. Had Abbas wanted to kill Hunter, he'd be dead already, or in sever pain at least. But look at him, Harm. He's fast asleep and clutching a gigantic teddy bear. He's FINE. And there's a reason for that."

"You don't think he's . . . he's pitying us, or something, do you?" Harm was more surprised than anything.

"No . . ." Clay trailed. I could tell just from the way he'd broken off, he was unsure of himself, and was showing it. "No, I don't think so. I think . . . I think he's moved on to something bigger. He's gotten his revenge, or at least, he's done with it. He's found another plan, one that'll take up all of his time. He doesn't need Hunter anymore; he doesn't want Hunter any more. So he turned Hunter's survival into a kind of game. If you and Mac were good enough, you could get him out in time. If not, you paid the price. Either way, Abbas was indifferent."

"That's sick." In my mind, I could see Harm shaking his head. "That's twisted."

"I know."

"Why would . . ." Harm began and then broke off. "How could . . ."

"It's going to be okay, Harm."

"Harm?" Mac's voice drifted down the hall. "Are you coming?"

There was a pause on Harm's end and then "yeah, just a second." Another long stretch of silence where I imagined Harm was making sure Mac was out of earshot, then – "I want to get through this, Webb. I want this all . . . I want it all to be over and done with."

"I'll try my best Harm," was Clay's solid vow. Then there was the shuffling of feet, and Harm's footsteps echoed down the far hall. I closed my eyes, my breathing suddenly growing heavy. I rolled away from the door and settled myself back into the same position I'd been in before Clay & Co. had arrived.

It was not cold yet, though we were in the middle of autumn and the dead of night. The sky was an ominous shade of black, but the air was warm and kind of settling. The quilts hung loosely around my body, and moonlight bathed the pillow my head rested upon. Everything was silent for a moment, and then the door to the living room opened. I cracked one eye open to see Clay shifting forward slowly. He was distracted, and rubbing his eyes; I knew he didn't know I was watching him.

He was clad in a pair of blue faded boxers and a loose sleeping shirt. In the moonlight, he looked even older than I knew he was. He looked like a man who'd been forced to his knees and beaten repetitively until all the fight was drained out of him. He almost numbly sat down on the couch across from me and folded his legs up so as to fit his body in the ancient love seat. For a few minutes, I just watched him twist and turn on the sofa. It seemed impossible for him to find a comfortable position.

"Clay?" I whispered. Even though my voice was soft, it sounded like I'd shouted against the echoing silence. Clay turned around to face me, wiping his eyes wearily.

"Vera?" he whispered. He rolled on his stomach so he could properly see me. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said a bit too quickly. I looked away from him, and out to the window where the moon was hanging low and majestically above the quiet dark countryside. I bit my lower lip. "I just thought maybe you should join me on the futon. I mean, there's no room on your couch," I was speaking rather rapidly, "and the futon's really big."

There was silence on Clay's end.

"It was just an idea," I said when he gave no comment. "I just thought your legs would be awfully cramped on the couch, but if you're okay . . ." I trailed distressed at his stony expression. "Never mind," I said, looking away. Silence drowned the room.

"Vera," Clay said abruptly. He sighed, and ran his hand through his short brown hair. "I just don't think that'd be the greatest idea . . ."

"Clay, it's not like it would mean anything," I said quickly. I was a bit too eager to prove my point, it seemed. "I'm not going to think anything of it. I just didn't want your legs to be all stiff in the morning. That's all."

Clay seemed unsure. "Are you positive that this . . . that it would be okay?"

"Yeah, completely," I was trying my best to convince him and myself. "Yeah, it's fine . . ." I trailed.

Clay got up, and pulled his quilt along with him. I scooted over to the left side of the futon and Clay rolled himself over to the right. We both lay on the very edge of the futon, with a seemingly mile-wide gap between the two of us. We both clutched at our individual blankets, and for a while neither of us spoke.

I don't know when I started crying, exactly. For a while, I had no sense of time. The moon was bright, and I could see it from exactly where I was laying, and the stars shone brighter than I'd ever seen them before. The air was warm, the countryside was calm. Everything was so at peace, and I was so restless, my agitation grew into tears. I started quietly sobbing, never issuing a sound.

"Vera?" Clay's voice was soft but layered with concern. I guess I hadn't been as quiet as I thought I had. "Vera, are you okay? You're shaking."

"I'm – I'm fine," I tried to say, but my tears caught in my throat and all my words slurred. I looked away, intent on not meeting Clay's gaze. I knew the moment I met it, any and all that was left of me would completely disintegrate. "I'm okay, Clay. Really."

"No, you're not." Clay's voice seemed cracked. "You're crying, Vera."

"I'm fine."

"You're no such thing."

"Well, I'll be fine," I insisted. I kept wiping furiously at my eyes but the tears kept on coming. I threw my hands down in frustration, and cried into my pillow. I could feel Clay watching me, but was too fed up to care much about it.

"Vera . . ." Clay whispered. "What's wrong? I don't understand . . ." I mumbled something into my pillow. "I'm sorry, I didn't get that."

I raised my head up from the pillow, and my tear stained red eyes met his cool aging grey ones. "I miss Jake," I whispered. I wiped tears rapidly from my cheeks, hating the damp upon my skin. "This whole thing with Hunter's got me on pins and needles and . . . and I just can't _stand _it. I can't stand being away from him, and I can't stand the thought that he's away from me, and . . . and . . ."

"Vera . . ."

"And I know this is going to sound corny, completely utterly stupid, but it feels like the longest time I've ever been away from him though it's barely been 24 hours . . ." I'm shaking. "And I can't stand that one person can make me this upset. I'm only away from him for a day and I'm already crying. What about when he gets hurt? What about when he goes on his first sleep over? What if the same thing that happened to Hunter happened to Jake? I couldn't take it, Clay."

The more and more I spoke, the more pathetic I felt. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if Jake went missing. Harm and Mac . . . I know this'll sound crude, and I feel terrible for it, but Harm and Mac could afford to lose Hunter. They're together, they love each other, and they've got a solid marital foundation, a child on the way, and probably many more to come. They have an incredible future ahead of them, but I don't." My voice broke. "All I have in this world is Jake, and what happens . . . what happens when he no longer needs me?"

My last statement came out more as a whisper than anything. My tears had stopped, and I'd managed to wipe them all off my face, but nothing could keep the defeated look I had from my features. I lay there on the futon, shivering uncontrollably though I was in no way cold, and refusing to meet Clay's eyes. We stayed like that for a few minutes.

"Vera," Clay whispered. He seemed lost. "I don't know . . . I don't know what to say to that." I closed my eyes, preparing to block the whole world from vision. "I don't . . . I can't . . ." He seemed frustrated. "I can't even _begin_ to understand that."

"Thanks," I whispered, bitter sarcasm coming to my voice. "Thanks a lot."

"No, you don't get it," Clay shook his head. He sighed. "Don't you see, Vera? You're so lucky," he whispered. His large silver eyes, the ones my son had inherited, stared down at me. "You're so miserable because you can't imagine life without Jake. You hate the fact that you love one human being so much that you're completely lost without them. But don't you see? Love is the most incredible feeling in the world, and you love him more than I've known anyone to love anyone."

Clay's voice broke. "I'd give anything to be able to feel like you do. I'd love to have that kind of bond with someone. I'd love to be able to . . . to give that part of myself away. But I can't. There's something missing from me, and I can't do that." He turned away from me. "You're so lucky."

It was my turn to be at a loss for words. I could only stare at him. "Clay," I whispered finally. "You love Jake. I know you do. I see you around him, and I know you. You love him, Clay. You do."

"Not . . . not like you do," he said. He was strangely quiet. "Not like you do."

"Oh, God!" I threw my fists up into the air. "Why does everything have to be like this? Why do we have to be so broken? We might as well be scattered across the continent. You and I are a foot away from each other, and we can barely connect. Don't you remember . . . don't you remember how it used to be?" my voice was pleading. "Remember? We used to suit each other so well, Clay. What happened to those days? How did we get here? And how do we . . ." I was starting to cry again and hated myself for it. "And how do we fix this?"

"I don't . . . I don't know, Vera."

I'm shaking. "I just want to go back to the way we used to be . . . I want to go back to the time when our worries were minimal . . . when we weren't so confused. Why can't we go back?" I'm punching at my pillow now. "I want to go back . . . why can't we go back?"

"Shh, Vera," Clay whispers to me soothingly. He grasps at my fists and I fight him for a second before completely giving in. "It's going to be alright."

"I want to undo it all," I said, refusing to listen to him. "I don't want everything to be complicated any more. I want life to return to normal . . ."

"Well, it's not going to," Clay's practicality cuts into me. "And you can't expect it to, Vera. We've changed since three years ago. We have a son now, I'm the director and I've got more responsibilities. We're different now, Vera, and now amount of undoing is going to change that."

"I know, I know," I whispered. It suddenly struck me, as he held my fists in the base of his palms, and our eyes fighting to meet each other's, that we were very very close. "I just . . . I don't want things to end like this."

"I don't want them to either."

"Something good's gotta happen, Clay," I whispered. "Something has to. Something's got to give in. Its due time, I haven't cashed on the happiness cheques in God knows how long. Something's got to give . . ."

"It will," he whispered. He was an inch away from me.

"But when?" I whispered faintly, my eyelids dropping to a close. "Before it all ends . . . before it's all over . . ."

"It will soon." His breath tickled my skin. _That _was how close he was.

"Clay . . ."

"Vera . . ."

And then our lips touched. It was tentative at first, like the first time a mother held her child, or a flower opened itself to the sun. We lingered like this for several seconds, the moonlight gripping to us and refusing to let go. The night drowned our thoughts, and we lay there numbly for a second. And then . . . I came to my senses.

"Whoa," I pushed him back a foot. "No, Clay. We can't do this. Remember?" I said. "Nothing's supposed to come out of this. We can't . . . I can't . . ." I was too confused for anything. "I can't fall for you again. This time the landing might be too hard."

I got up off the futon.

"Where are you going?" Clay asked. He scrambled up from the futon but I motioned him back down.

"Nysa's sleeping in the office bedroom. I'll just go join her. It'll probably be . . . better this way," I said, hoping to cut our conversation to a minimum.

"But –"

"Goodnight, Clay," I whispered quietly. I looked down at him, and then slowly, as if unsure of what I was doing, I kissed him on the cheek before picking up my pillow and joining Nysa in the office bedroom. The next morning, Nysa did not ask why I'd magically appeared next to her in the morning, and I didn't tell.

There were some things just better left unsaid.


	15. We Already Are

**A/N: Hey all, I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be leaving on Friday for a week's vacation. This probably won't stop the chapter flow, but it might slow it down a bit. I'll still try and get two chapters out while I'm away. Cross your fingers. **

**We Already Are**

**The Next Night**

**House of Porter Webb**

**No POV**

"Are you warm enough, Jacob?" Porter Webb's voice was soft against the silence of the night. She stood inside the guest bedroom, shivering against the wind that floated in from the open window. "It's rather chilly in here."

"I like the window open, Grandma," was Jake's quiet reply. His curly auburn hair stood out prominently against the dull faded blue quilts that drowned him from all angles. His eyelids blinked sleepily. "Mommy always leaves our windows open at home."

Mrs. Webb smiled and ruffled her grandson's hair fondly. "Does she now?"

"Yes," Jake nodded. "'Cept when it's winter." Porter Webb took a seat on the edge of her grandchild's bed. "And do you know what season we're in now, Jake?"

There was a pause of thought on Jake's end before he said, "It's fall."

"Yes, that's right," Mrs. Webb nodded and smiled. "That means it's almost winter, and we shouldn't leave the windows open because it'll give us chills at night time. Then you'll wake up with a cold."

"Aw, but it's warm out still." Jake possessed the same stubborn persistence that Porter Webb had noticed in Clay in his preschool years as well. At the thought, Mrs. Webb found herself wondering whether she should be smiling or crying with grief. Certainly her son possessed many good qualities, but she was not ignorant to his faults too. She didn't worry though; Mrs. Webb possessed a profound trust in Vera Azhad. Their first meeting was months after Jake had been born, but they had formed an instant bond. Tragedy did that too people.

"Do you _really _want the window open?" Porter Webb stressed her words. Jake was three years old and small for his age, bundled under two thick quilts and mounds of sheets. She doubted the light autumn breeze from the window would be an issue.

"Yes, please, Grandma," Jake smiled sleepily, "just a bit."

"Okay," Mrs. Webb acquiesced. She pushed the window in so that it was open only an inch, and returned to her grandson's bedside. "Have a good rest, you don't need to wake up early tomorrow."

"What about school?" Jake was yawning at every second word. His small head rested gently against the white goose feather pillow beneath him. "Mommy doesn't . . ." he yawned again. "Mommy doesn't like me missing school."

"Well, I talked to your mother," Porter whispered, "and she told me it was okay if you missed a few days."

Even under the spell of slumber, Jake was skeptical. "She wouldn't say that."

"She would and she did," Mrs. Webb said. She kissed her grandson lightly on the forehead. "Good night, Jacob."

"'Night, Grandma," Jake whispered back, and rolled over onto his side as he fell into a steady sleep. Porter Webb watched him for a second, her fingers lingering on the light switch. Though Jake undoubtedly bore a strong resemblance to his mother, she couldn't help but look at him and think of Clay. Right now, Jake rested in the bed that Clay had grown up in, in her son's old room. It felt odd now to tuck another child into bed. There was a strange feeling about the whole thing, and Porter Webb couldn't quite shake it.

She turned off the light.

But as Mrs. Webb walked across the hall and into her old room, she soon forgot about the feeling that had nipped at her heart when tucking Jake in. She changed into her white autumn nightgown, and dutifully prepared herself to bed. She had just finished reading a section of her Edgar Allen Poe collection book, and was dimming the reading light when the window to Jake's room was pushed open by something other than the wind. It was pushed open far beyond its original inch of space, and the torso of a man slipped through the open frame.

The house was silent all through the night, with nothing but the sound of tree leaves brushing gently against the walls of the house to disturb the tranquility. But then again, come the next morning, there would be only one occupant. The other was gone with the wind.

* * *

**Earlier That Day**

**Shapiro Residence**

**Harm's POV**

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the strange buzzing noise that infiltrated my ears and echoed itself repeatedly. I laid there for a moment in Shapiro's guest bed, too lazy to move but too restless to keep perfectly still. Sun filtered in through the open curtains and pounded on my bare chest. I wiped my eyes sleepily. Yesterday's events had left my body bruised and battered, but not beyond comfort.

I got up from the bed, and slipped on a white t-shirt before exiting the room. Already I could hear voices over the thin buzzing, and by the time I'd reached the kitchen, the buzzing had halted for a second.

"Hey, Harm," Shapiro welcomed me by pushing an empty chair towards me. He was sitting at his kitchen table with a large mug of hot coffee, his hair still tousled from his night's sleep. I took a long look around the room before I sat down. I could see Shapiro's wife behind the counter frying six eggs in a large pan, and across from Shapiro sat Vera. She smiled wearily at me in greeting.

"Hey," I replied to Shapiro. I wiped my eyes with my hands. Last night had been long and tedious. I yawned, "So where's everyone else?"

"Um," Tony said, stretching back in his chair. "Clay had to go into town on 'business' or something," Tony said that part with pronounced disbelief, "and when Nysa heard Clay was going into town, she wanted to do some shopping so he took her with him."

"And Mac?" I asked, looking around the room. To be quite frank, I could care less about Clay and Nysa at that particular moment in time. "Where are Mac and Hunter?"

"Oh, Mac took Hunter out early this morning to see the barber. She can't stand the sight of his blonde hair." He shrugged indifferently. "I thought it looked okay."

My eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "Mac's upset over Hunter's hair?"

Sure, I thought Hunter looked better with his old brown hair, but I wasn't quite particular on it. I mean, I'm way more concerned about his health than his haircut. Besides, give him a decade or so and he'll be a teenager and dying his hair bubble gum pink. As far as I'm concerned, I'd take blonde any day over pink.

I don't know, Harm," Shapiro said after a long breath. "You . . . you should keep an eye out for Mac. I don't think she's quite over anything that's happened yet. I mean, that's to be expected. I don't think any mother could go through the ordeal Mac just went through and come out bare of any scars. But seriously, Harm, something's going on with her and . . . and you should watch out for it."

I stayed quiet for a while after Shapiro's unusually length speech, and sipped lengthily on my hot coffee. Vera hadn't said a word. Just then, the screen door to the porch of the Shapiro house opened and I could hear the sound of two sets of footsteps.

"Hunter, take off your shoes. I don't want you trailing dirt around the house . . ." I could hear Mac's voice. I looked up to see Hunter running towards me, shoe free and bright eyed.

"Hi, Daddy," he said and jumped up onto my lap. I put my arms around him and hugged his small body against my larger frame. I looked at his clothes. He was wearing a baggy pair of faded jeans, and a loose football jersey. I'd never seen him wear those clothes before.

I looked at him curiously. "Where did you get those clothes, Hunt?"

"Oh, I got them for him," Shapiro said before Hunter could answer. "I went out earlier this morning. He had nothing to wear, the clothes he had on yesterday were covered in dried blood." Tony shrugged. "I kind of had to guess at sizes. The saleswoman told me those were the typical sizes for a four year old boy, but I forgot Hunter's a little small for his age."

"It's okay," I said and wrapped my arms tighter around my son. "They fit fine." I smiled at Shapiro. "Thanks, Tony. That was a really nice thing you did."

"Ah well, you'd do the same for me," Shapiro said breezily and I knew it was true. We hardly ever said anything about it, but we knew each other well even though we hadn't seen each other for years. It was kind of funny in a way. Dire situations bonded the most resistant people.

"Okay, Hunter, let's hit the shower," Mac suddenly said, coming up from behind us.

I looked up at Mac and down at Hunter. He seemed perfectly clean; I knew he must have been bathed within the last 24 hours. When we'd pulled him out of Abbas's house, he'd been covered head to toe in a kind of grimy looking dust but now his skin was a deep cream color, as it had always been.

"But mommy, I had a shower last night," Hunter began to protest but Mac stopped him.

"NOW, Hunter," Mac snapped. "There is no room for a debate. Come on," she took his hand as he hopped off my lap. "I'm going to wash you until it all comes off."

"But –"

"No buts." Mac's voice was cold. "Now go into the bathroom. I'll be there in a minute." Hunter cast a forlorn glance at me but I said nothing. He hung his head and disappeared down the hallway. I turned to stare at Mac, an air of confusion becoming me. "Mac, what's . . ." I was feeling lost. "What's was that all about?"

"What was what all about?" Mac didn't look up at me, but rather threw her purse on one of the various empty chairs. She took off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner.

"The . . . the showering thing," I said. I didn't know how to quite else describe it.

"Nothing," Mac said in reply. She still wouldn't meet my eyes. "It doesn't concern you, Harm."

"It's our son, Mac," I said, my voice suddenly hardening. "Of course it concerns me." When she said nothing, I got up and walked over to her. My voice softened. "And it's you, Mac. You always concern me."

Mac rolled her eyes, slamming down her coffee mug against the table. "Great. I'm glad I do so much to elicit concern."

I sighed exasperatedly. "Mac, I didn't mean it that way . . ."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of having to interpret everything everyone says to me," Mac snapped in retaliation. Without another word, she stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared down the same hall Hunter had just three minutes before.

I looked back at Vera and Tony who were sitting wordlessly at the kitchen table. "What was that about?" I asked, very much confused.

Vera shrugged in response to my question, but Tony said, "I don't know, Harm, but I really think you should find out. Again, Mac hasn't exactly been acting . . . normally, since Hunter's disappearance. I've been alone with her for a grand total of fifteen minutes, but even I can tell something's up."

My throat seemed to tighten. "Do you think it's serious?"

"I think it could _become _serious," Tony said slowly, "If . . . if it's not dealt with immediately."

I nodded equally as slowly. "So I've got a potential problem."

Vera sighed, not looking up at me but rather at her coffee mug. "Everyone has problems, Harm." Tony and I looked at her. These were the first words she'd spoken all morning. "Let's face it," she said moodily. "The whole _world _has problems."

"Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine," I snickered. Vera shot me a dark look.

"Harm, go to your wife," Tony said monotonously. I opened my mouth to reply but something in Shapiro's eyes kept me from doing so. "Go," he said again, this time with more impact. "She needs you."

I left with a kind of disconnected feeling swelling inside me. As if Abbas hadn't already done enough to cause us pain, he left us trembling in the wake of the war . . .

* * *

**Same Time**

**Shapiro Residence**

**Vera's POV**

"Okay," Tony said as soon as Harm had disappeared from view. "What's up?"

I still stared moodily at my coffee cup. "What's to say anything's up?"

Shapiro cast a skeptical glance at me. "Vera, I know you," he said. "I know people in general, and I know when something's bothering them. You can tell me, you know," Tony whispered with a grin. "I swear I won't tell a soul."

For a second there, I considered telling Shapiro everything. I wanted so badly to spill everything out, just to make some sense of it all. These days, I was so confused and so fearful of the days ahead, I felt like I was chasing the tail I knew I didn't have. I kept in running in circles, and never getting anywhere.

"Come on, Vera," he whispered comfortingly. "Maybe I can help."

I shook my head, laughing rather sardonically to myself. "Believe me, Tony, you can't help me." I exhaled heavily. "No one can help me at the moment."

Shapiro was compassionate. "Things are that bad, huh?"

"A hundred times over," I said bitterly. I took another long sip of coffee and winced at its strength. A year ago I could drink this strong a coffee and bear it. Three years ago, I could drink this coffee and like it.

"Well, come on, don't keep all the gloom to yourself," Shapiro gently prodded. "You know, it's selfish to do that, especially when there are so many people around you who want to share."

"Stop trying to make me smile," I said, shaking my head and despite myself, smiling.

"There we go," Shapiro grinned. "I knew the sun would come out sooner or later."

I knew he was purposely trying to flatter me, and though I usually would mind, I found myself resisting not one bit. "I'd . . . I'd tell you," I said slowly. "But you don't want to know, Tony. You don't want my problems on your doorstep."

"Stop trying to talk yourself out of it," Shapiro rolled his eyes, "Especially when I'm working so hard to talk you into it."

I smiled kind of wearily. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Tony said immediately. "Just confide. I'm real good with confessions. You should try it some time."

I laughed. "You're such a nut."

"And proud of it, babe," Tony grinned back. "Now come on, what's eating you?"

I leaned back in my chair, sighing heavily. "It's . . . it's Clay."

Tony sighed too. "Ah, but of course."

I shot him a glare. "You're not making this any easier, you know."

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

I shrugged it off. "It's okay," I said. "You're forgiven." Tony motioned for me to continue and I did. "I'm just so confused about him. On one hand, part of me will always love him. I know that. I can't stop myself. After all, he fathered my child. On the other hand, it would be too complicated to get involved with him, especially after the last time, well . . . it resulted in Jake. And don't get me wrong, my son's the light of my life," I said quickly. "But . . . it's so much work taking care of him, Tony. I mean, I know you know that. You've got two daughters. But at least you have your wife. I don't have anyone, Tony. Clay's barely around, and I take care of Jake all by myself."

Tony's hand briefly touched my arm. "I know it must be tough."

"It is," I said, looking down at the table. "I know I don't show it very often. I hate to. I'm like Clay in that way. I hate to show my weaknesses; it proves you aren't tough enough, and in the CIA you have to be tough. But . . ." I felt dangerously close to tears, "but sometimes I feel like I have no life. No purpose. I spend all day at office filing paper even though I'm an extremely qualified agent. I come home to cook and clean for my preschooler, and go to bed with absolutely no prospect of a romantic or otherwise personal life." I sighed in sheer frustration. "I just . . . I can't do this any longer."

"And that relates to Clay . . . how?" Shapiro asked, acting dumb.

"Because!" I exclaimed aggravated. "This is all his fault! If . . . if we'd just been able to work it out, we'd probably be married now. We could share the work evenly, we could raise Jake together, and it wouldn't be so much of a damn _strain_. But no, Clay loves his work too damn much to give it up for the prospect of a family. So here I am, Tony, thirty-six with a three-year-old son I can barely keep up with, 24 hour days that feel double that, and an ex-boyfriend that barely sees his son twice a month. _I have no life_."

Tony was silent for a long moment. "You have a life, Vera," he whispered. "You do. Everything you just said proves it. It's hit a low point, but it'll get better. I know it will." His caring eyes fell upon mine. "You're a good person, Vera, and good people get good endings."

"Oh yeah?" I snapped, and suddenly I couldn't control the tears I'd been threatening to shed all morning. "Well what about Jake?" I asked, and suddenly my voice felt too heavy for my throat. My eyes burned angrily. "What about Jake's ending? Was that what you'd call happy?"

"Jake . . ." Shapiro whispered. "Your son?"

I shook my head, hot tears burning against my cheeks. "Holter," I whispered. His name felt foreign on my lips. "Special Agent Jacob Holter."

Tony stared at me, his mouth barely a grim line. "So that's what this is about," he whispered finally. "It's not about Clay, or about your son, or about you not having any time or any personal life," he said slowly. His dark eyes flashed. "You're not over Jake yet."

* * *

**Same Time**

**Shapiro Residence**

**Harm's POV**

"Mac . . .?" I whispered, opening the door to the bathroom. Immediately, hazy smoke from the hot water met my vision, and it took me a moment for my eyes to adjust. "Mac? Hunter?"

"Daddy!" I heard Hunter call and I approached the bathtub where Mac was furiously scrubbing our son.

"Hey buddy," I whispered and sat down next to Mac who was furiously clawing her way through Hunter's hair as she scrubbed the shampoo all over his scalp.

"Get out . . ." she whispered rabidly, her eyes not even flipping towards me. "Out, dammit, out . . ."

"Mac?" I whispered. I was getting more frightened by the minute. "Why do you want me . . .?"

"Not you!" Mac suddenly screamed. For a second there, time seemed to freeze. Hunter stopped wiggling inside the bathtub and I froze in my crouched position. "I'm sorry," Mac whispered. She looked very lost. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . I didn't mean to lose my temper."

"It's okay, honey," I said calmly. I ran my fingers through her hair comfortingly. "It's alright."

"No . . ." Mac trailed. Her voice seemed to break, and it was only when I saw tears running down her cheeks did I realize she was crying. "IT'S NOT OKAY, DAMMIT!" she screamed.

Hunter stared awestruck at his mother. So did I, for that matter. "Hey Hunter," I said suddenly turning towards him. I sprayed some fresh water on his hair so all the remaining shampoo suds were out, and then I enveloped him in a towel. "Why don't you head over to the guest room and put on your clothes? I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Okay," Hunter whispered and scampered out of the bathroom as quickly as he could. Mac lay knelt on the white kitchen tile floor, her body leaning against the wall and her chest heaving as she cried.

"Mac . . ." I whispered, inching close to her. She had her face buried in her hands and her whole body was shaking. "Mac, please tell me what's going on . . . I want to know what's happening with you."

Mac suddenly leaned against me, and it took all my strength to keep myself from crumbling as clung to me. "Oh god, Harm, I don't know what's happening . . . I don't know. It just WOULDN'T FRICKEN COME OUT!"

"What wouldn't come out?" I whispered. "Baby, I don't understand."

"The . . . the . . ." Mac was having trouble stringing words together. "The blonde!" she whispered furiously. "It wouldn't bloody well come out."

"But why does it need to come out?" I asked, knowing full well she was referring to Hunter's hair. I saw the desperation in her eyes, I saw the wild way she was twisting around and I wanted so badly to be able to soothe her, to calm her. But I needed to know what the problem was first. "Why do you want his blonde hair out so badly?"

Mac's eyes were swollen and red, her hands entangled in her dark hair. "Because!" she said as she shook against my body. "Because . . . I need to wash myself of Abbas. Every time I look at Hunter now, I think of what Abbas did to him, and what Abbas could have done to him Every time I see him, I can't help but think that he's not the same as he used to be. That he's not . . . he's not our little boy anymore."

"Oh god, Mac, yes, he is," I whispered. I had her in my arms and her back against my chest. "He's still ours. He went through a terrible ordeal but he's okay. He's fine. Mac . . . look at him. He's just like you. He faces a tough situation, but he can just pick himself right up and keep on going. He's incredibly strong and brave and keeps cool under pressure." I kissed her forehead gently. "He's your son through and through."

Mac smiled against tears and buried her head in my neck for a good long while. "Well, I don't think I can take all the credit," she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I think one or two chromosomes belong to you."

"Nah," I said playfully, and then reconsidered what she said. "Well, maybe the devilish good looks."

Mac shot a watery smile at me and I kissed her again. "We're going to be fine."

"I know."

"But do you believe it?" I asked.

Mac stared at me for a minute and then smiled. "Yeah," she said, nodding her head and easing herself back into my arms. "We're going to be fine." Then she stopped, and looked at me again.

"We're not going to be fine," she said, correcting herself earlier with a shake of her head. I looked down at her and she cracked a wry weary grin, "We already are."

**A/N: Survey - how HM was this chapter? (Making up for last chapter's huge amount of VC)**


	16. Things Kept Personal

**A/N: I'm back and here to stay, people. I know what you're thinking. I say that every time before I disappear for a month. But honestly, I'm back this time. Really.  
Stop looking at me like that. **

**_Previously in Along the Jagged Path . . ._**

_**Harm and Mac . . .**_

_Mac's eyes were swollen and red, her hands entangled in her dark hair. "Because!" she said as she shook against my body. "Because . . . I need to wash myself of Abbas. Every time I look at Hunter now, I think of what Abbas did to him, and what Abbas could have done to him Every time I see him, I can't help but think that he's not the same as he used to be. That he's not . . . he's not our little boy anymore."_

"_Oh god, Mac, yes, he is," I whispered. I had her in my arms and her back against my chest. "He's still ours. He went through a terrible ordeal but he's okay. He's fine. Mac . . . look at him. He's just like you. He faces a tough situation, but he can just pick himself right up and keep on going. He's incredibly strong and brave and keeps cool under pressure." I kissed her forehead gently. "He's your son through and through."_

_**A Ruthless Killer . . .**_

"_We've got a match." Farid tilted the laptop screen towards me. "Jacob Akheal Azhad-Webb. Age three, lives in Washington DC. Mother, Vera Azhad. Father, Clayton Webb . . ."_

"_That's enough, Farid," I whispered, my eyes blazing. This utterly overwhelming sense of giddiness washed over me. I smiled to myself. How sweet. With his first name they probably christened him after Jake Holter, and the middle name Vera's surrogate father. Touching. "It's him."_

_I turned back to Hunter who sat there in the small bed, looking up at me with those big blue eyes of his. He's so small, so naïve, new to the world and acts just like it. Little did he know he may have just saved his own life._

_And condemned his friend._

_**An innocent victim . . .**_

_But as Mrs. Webb walked across the hall and into her old room, she soon forgot about the feeling that had nipped at her heart when tucking Jake in. She changed into her white autumn nightgown, and dutifully prepared herself to bed. She had just finished reading a section of her Edgar Allen Poe collection book, and was dimming the reading light when the window to Jake's room was pushed open by something other than the wind. It was pushed open far beyond its original inch of space, and the torso of a man slipped through the open frame._

_The house was silent all through the night, with nothing but the sound of tree leaves brushing gently against the walls of the house to disturb the tranquility. But then again, come the next morning, there would be only one occupant. The other was gone with the wind._

_**The story goes on . . .**_

**Things Kept Personal**

**1237**

**Market Place**

**Clay's POV**

"I really like these." Nysa held up a pair of long dangly red earrings. "What do you think?"

I stood with my hands jammed into the pockets of my pair of khakis. The Market Place was crowded. It was late Saturday morning and already the small square was filled with the bustling of women of all ages, and the occasional man intent upon a cheap purchase. "They're nice."

Nysa looked highly affronted, "just nice?"

I moved to avoid a tourist's shoulder in my back. I ran my hand through my hair and smiled wearily, retracting my words. "They look very pretty, okay?"

Nysa took one last glance at the blood colored earring before setting them down on the stand where they'd come from and turning towards me. She sighed. "Much distracted, are you?"

I grinned downwards, rubbing the back of my neck, "that obvious?"

"Pretty damn so," Nysa said. She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the icecream stand which stood independently in a small corner of the market, the one most secluded from the main population of people. "One vanilla cone and one . . ." she trailed looking towards me.

"Coke, please," I said stiffly.

Nysa rolled her eyes. "God, you're boring." She turned back to the ice cream man, "and one coke."

The ice-cream man nodded, handed us the objects of our requests, and we sat down on a nearby bench. Nysa licked her cone thoughtfully. "You don't get out much, do you?"

I swallowed the coke I had in my mouth. "Excuse me?" Really, had I just heard it right? Were all the Azhads _this_ crude?

"You don't get out much," Nysa repeated bluntly. She looked up quickly. "It's not an insult or anything, really. You just don't seem like the kind of guy who sits around on Saturday mornings licking ice cream with friends on park benches. It's just not who you are."

"Really," I said. I was sort of intrigued by Nysa's quick assessment of me. "And who am I, exactly?"

Nysa took a very long thoughtful lick of icecream cone. "You're the kind of guy who spends his vacations behind a desk. Who wishes he could be there even though he can. Who knows exactly what to say and never says it. Who likes to watch rather than act?" Nysa pulled her knees up to her chest. "You're the kind of guy who, if I was dating, would frustrate the hell out of me."

I looked at her. "Mental note: never date you."

She smiled. "Is that why you and Vera aren't?"

I choked on my Coke. "I'm sorry?"

Nysa sighed. "Why aren't you and my sister . . . you know . . ."

I waited for her to finish.

"_Together," _she stretched.

I relaxed into the bench. "She never told you?"

"Vera doesn't tell anyone much of anything," Nysa said pointedly. "Not that that's a bad either. She just likes to keep her personal stuff personal."

"You're her sister."

"We're not as close as we seem to be." Nysa's eyes seemed to darken. "But we're very much alike. This, I suppose, is part of the reason we can't stand each other. And then again, we're also very opposite, but that too drives us insane." She flashed me a sad smile. "Too much has happened to properly repair our relationship."

"That's not necessarily true."

"Oh really," Nysa cocked an eyebrow. "Three days ago I found out I had a nephew for the first time. Not once in the last four years has she picked up the phone and bothered to tell me she had a son. Not once."

I was slow with a response. "Well as you said, Vera likes to keep the personal stuff personal."

"And as you said," Nysa retaliated, "I'm her sister. How much more personal can you get?"

A deadening silence seemed to fall between us. "Vera's going through a tough time," I said finally. "And she won't let anyone help her. You can't really blame her for what she's done as of late. I don't thinks he's even really aware of the effects of her actions. She's just . . . I don't know," I trailed off uselessly.

Nysa was silent.

I put my head in my hands, and fingered my hair exhaustedly. "I really don't know anymore. Some days it's like she's an open book. Other days . . . she's impossible to read."

Nysa's dark eyes fell harshly upon me. "You never did answer my question, you know," she whispered softly. I was quiet. "Why aren't you together?"

People passed us by, rapidly moving, without so much as a second glance in our direction. How could they bare being so carefree, so happy? And why weren't we? Why were we the ones sitting on the bench and moaning about how unjust life was? Why weren't we the happy passers by? What separated our side of the line from theirs? I stood up suddenly. "Let's go."

"But what about –" Nysa began but I cut her off.

"Let's just go," I said and we left.

* * *

**Same Time**

**Shapiro Residence**

**Mac's POV**

"Yeah . . . uh huh . . . yes, he's _fine, _Harriet." I ran my fingers through my hair as I held the phone with my right hand. "Really, he is . . . what happened?" I looked at Harm for some sort of help but instead he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. I rolled my eyes exasperatedly at him. "It's a bit difficult to explain. See, Abbas had the house rigged with explosives when we got there. Hunter was inside. We . . . we got him out in time and everything. No one's hurt."

"Dad, dad, dad," Hunter ran in. "I'm going to go outside and play."

"Sure," Harm said.

"No, wait," I flipped myself off the bed I'd been lying on and grabbed Hunter by the arm, pulling him back to me. I held the phone to his ear. "Say hello to Aunt Harriet."

"But I want to –"

"_Say hello, Hunter."_

Hunter rolled his eyes in the exact way I'd done just thirty seconds before and picked up the phone. "Hi, Aunt Harriet." He handed the phone back to me. "Now may I _please go outside?" _I looked at Harm. He got off the bed. "I'll take him outside," he offered. "Say hello to Harriet for me."

I nodded and waited till they left the room. "Harm says hi," I said and then relaxed back onto the bed.

"God, Mac," Harriet whispered. "That must have been awful . . . finding Hunter like that . . ."

I closed my eyes and released a breath. "It was. It was horrible. Awful." I rested my hand on my stomach. "If that ever happens with our little girl . . ."

"_You know it's a girl?" _Harriet's voice squeaked in my ear. _"Congratulations!"_

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Thanks."

"Have you thought about names yet?"

I smiled. "Harm and I were talking before he left. We're thinking about Alexandra."

"That's a gorgeous name."

"Yeah, it is."

Harriet paused. "Mac, are you sure you're okay? You don't sound . . . I don't know."

"Excited?"

"I guess that's it. Normally, it's just . . . oh, I don't know." Harriet seemed flustered. "Maybe it's just me that gets excited about picking baby names."

"No, no, I am. I was. We were. It's just . . . it's difficult." I sighed, not quite sure how to explain what I meant. "I mean, this . . . I think this is the end Harriet. Oh, I don't know how to put it." I felt frustration mount within me. "I mean, I'm forty. I'm forty and I'm having a child. I think this one could be our last. After all, once you reach my age, the chances of you having another child . . ."

"Are still there," Harriet finished. "They are still there."

"It doesn't feel like it," I said. "It doesn't feel like I have time for anything any more, like we're running out time. Harm's away. I'm at work. Hunter's at school, or at your house, or at Vera's house, or _someone's _house. Whenever Harm and I do see each other, we've got Hunter to worry about. And when Hunter's not around, we're just so exhausted from everything else that we've done that day that pretty much all that's on our minds is sleep and maybe a little TV."

Harried sighed. "Welcome to the married life."

"It's like I want to do all these things but there's never any time to do them," I said.

"What kind of things?"

I sighed. "Oh, I don't know, like buying a new house. Our house is small already, and with the baby coming . . . I just can't see raising two children there. But buying a new house means selling our current house, scouting for new houses, packing up, moving. Harm's always busy, I'm always at work. When are we ever going to have the time to figure all that out? Then there's finding Hunter a grade school. Next year he'll be in first grade and Harm and I were sort of looking into placing him in a private school. We have no clue which one yet." I stopped for breath.

"Sweetie," Harriet said kindly. "Have you talked to Harm about any of this yet?"

I leaned back in the bed. "There hasn't been any time really. Not with this whole Hunter thing."

"Well honey, what are you talking to _me _for then?" Harriet sounded exasperated. "In all the time we just spent talking, you could have told Harm."

"Yeah, but –"

"No buts," Harriet interrupted. "You go tell Harm what it is you're feeling."

"But –"

"_Now."_

I hung up the phone.

"Hey, Mac, can I use the phone if you're done with it?"

I turned around, "yeah, sure, Vera." I handed her the phone. "Are Harm and Hunter in the front or back yard?"

"Front," Vera said without looking up. She was punching numbers into the phone, looking anxiously at the window.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, peering out the window.

Vera instantly looked down. "Nothing," she said and held the phone to her ear.

I looked out again and then, from the very corner of the road, I could see two people walking. I paused as their body shapes became larger until there was finally room for recognition. "Clay and Nysa?" I said puzzled. "What are they doing together?"

Vera's voice was ice. "I don't know and I don't care."

"Vera –" I began but was cut off.

"Hi, may I please speak to Porter Webb? Tell her it's Vera Azhad." Vera looked back at me. "I don't see why Clay and I is any of anyone's business. Really. All anyone's asked me since we've got here is why I'm not with Clay, like I'm nothing without him. And I can't stand it."

"No one's trying to make you feel that way," I began but –

"Well they do," Vera snapped. Her voice returned to the phone. "Yes, Vera Azhad. Tell her it's about my son Jacob."

I looked at her and then turned to leave the room. I figured she'd want a little time alone. I walked outside and onto the front porch. Hunter was holding a basketball. "Mommy, do you want to play too?"

"No thanks, hon, I'm good right here," I said and sat down on a rocking chair on the corner of the porch. Harm grinned at me in greeting then picked Hunter up and put him on his shoulders. I smiled.

"Hey, Mac."

I looked over to see Clay and Nysa walking up the steps of the porch. Clay looked slightly agitated. "Have you seen Vera?"

"Um, yeah," I said. "She's in the Guest Room on the phone with your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yeah," I said quickly. "That's who she left Jake with."

"Oh."

I raised an eyebrow. "All this time you didn't wonder where your son was?"

Clay cleared his throat. "Well, I never have to worry about where he is with Vera. She takes care of everything."

Nysa mouthed 'lame' behinds his back. I nodded my head in agreement. Clay turned around and looked at us. "What?" he said. "It's not my fault that Vera really does think everything through. I never have to worry about Jake. There's nothing to worry about. She makes sure of that."

"And you want to know why she makes sure of that?" I retaliated. "It's because Jake's _father _won't lift one helpful finger."

Vera appeared at the doorway, her skin strangely pale. "Clay," she whispered.

"Not right now," Clay snapped. He turned back to me. "Is that what you think, Mac?" he demanded. His eyes were wild. "Is it? Is that really all that you think I am? A deadbeat Dad who makes Vera work like crazy so he has no responsibility? Is it? After all the years we've known each other, _that's _the image you have?"

"Clay," Vera whispered.

"Look, Clay!" I said, my voice releasing itself in a foreign sort of hiss. "I don't think you're lazy. I don't think you're a jackass. However, I do think you need a sense of perspective. I think you think that your works comes first. I think you're so fooled by Vera's facade of the world's most capable mother that you think you really don't need to do anything. Whereas in reality; just because you're not there Vera has to work ten times harder. Because you're not there, she has to juggle the strain of work and a three year old. Because you're not there, Jake's growing up without a dad."

"Clay!" Vera said urgently.

"JAKE HAS A DAD, OKAY?" Clay suddenly screamed. His voice was loud and harsh, and I could see Hunter – from atop Harm's shoulders – turn in sudden alarm towards him. Clay faced me, skin hot and face red. "Maybe I'm not always there," Clay panted. "Maybe I can't always give him the amount of personal time he needs. Maybe I can't meet everyone's expectations. Maybe I just can't be everywhere all the BLOODY TIME. Did anyone ever THINK of that?"

"Clay!" Vera cried.

"Everyone's so QUICK to judge me," Clay hissed. "You all think you know exactly what it's like to be me, huh? I handle the fate of America's security EVERY DAY. It's a 24/7 job and I'm doing the best I friggin can and all you do is sit there and pass judgment. I'm not a good dad, huh? Am I not –"

"CLAY, GODDAMMIT!" Vera suddenly screamed. We all turned towards her. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were red and hot angry tears were streaming down her face. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

Clay moved towards her. "Vera," he whispered softly.

Vera's arms flew out, slapping Clay hard on the chest. He wrestled to pull his arms around her as she fought wildly with him. And then, as if time had halted for a mere second, she fell into his embrace, weak and crying, coughing too hard for any word to come out distinctly.

"Vera," Clay whispered again, his fingers running themselves through her dark auburn curls. "What's wrong?"

Vera tilted her head so that her mouth was no longer on the fabric of Clay's shirt. She coughed hard and raspy, futilely brushed tears from her face. "It's . . ." her voice cracked. "It's Jake."

Next to her, Clay's eyes darkened.

**A/N: Ooooh, what will happen next? Vote now. I love hearing opinions, and you should too, mostly because some times I actually take them and use them. **


	17. Surrender

**A/N: Holy shit, I can't believe I haven't updated this since June. I am really really REALLY sorry. Can't stress the reallys. Okay, (deep breath), prepare for the world's longest author's note ...**

**Okay, so this is the plan of action. I'm getting this story started again, and then I'm going to finish it. Then that's it. No trilogy here, folks. I've got exams at the end of January, so if you only get another update after this one till February, don't be alarmed. I'm not comatose, just studying … which may as well be the same thing when I'm concerned, but whatever. I won't get into that.**

**Now, here's where YOU come in. Please don't let me forget about this story for another six months again. I want to finish this just as much as you want me to finish it. If I don't update for a while, review/PM me/email me and feel free to scream, okay? **

**So with that said … I'm gonna recap for you everything that's happened …**

**1. **Hunter Rabb was rescued  
**2. **Jacob Webb was kidnapped instead  
**3. **Vera's still torn between feelings for Jake Holter and Clayton Webb  
**4. **Clay is clueless as to what he wants in life.  
**5. **Harm and Mac are … actually, they're pretty okay.  
**6. **They're all staying with Tony Shapiro…  
**7. **Abbas is still not dead.

**And for those of you who forget my personally fictionalized characters:**

**Vera Azhad - **CIA agent assigned to Harm's case in Full Throttle. Good friend of the gang. Was romantically involved with the late Jake Holter. Was romantically involved with Clayton Webb. Mother of Clay's son Jacob. Has a pretty kick-ass personality. One of the good guys.

**Jacob Holter **- CIA agent who was an active member of Harm's supposed "death" in 'Full Throttle'. Friends with all JAG characters. Romantically involved with Vera Azhad. Died trying to save her in the second last chapter of 'Full Throttle'. Vera named her and Clay's son after him.

**Jacob Webb - **Three year-old son of Vera Azhad and Clayton Webb. As of the last chapter in Along the Jagged Path, he is now missing, kidnapped by Abbas.

**Ali Abbas - **Major bad guy. Haunted the group since the beginning of Full Throttle. Kidnapped Hunter. Now has kidnapped Jake. Also responsible for Harm faking his own death. Terrorist… Just generally bad.

**Anthony (Tony) Shapiro - **Friend of the gang. Helped nab Abbas in Full Throttle. Needless to say, Abbas got away … Generally a good guy. Twisted sense of humor. Think Tony on NCIS if you watch that show.

**And now that that hellishly long author's note is done … to the actual story …**

**Oh wait, btw – for all you guys who watch Lost, I write a story called "New Way to Breathe" under my other penname 'Nevrmind'. If you're a Jate shipper, check it out.**

**Surrender**

**2103  
Shapiro Residence  
Mac's POV**

"Hey."

I turned around, and at once softened to Harm's voice. "Hey."

He gently stroked my arm. "Tough day," he said.

I cast my eyes away from his. My heart ached within my chest. "And nothing compared to what Clay and Vera are dealing with."

"Maaaac," Harm whispered and I leaned into his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. We were so accustomed to doing this, the motion was completely natural. "I'm going to take you and Hunter home tomorrow," he whispered.

My head shot up from Harm's shoulder. I backed away. "No, you're not."

"Mac –"

"We'll leave Hunter with Harriet or something, but I'm coming with you. I don't care what you say," I said quickly. "I know what Vera's dealing with, and I know what Clay's dealing with, and considering their emotional position, neither of them can really think straight and you _need_ me, Harm. You need me, if you want to find Jake. You need me to –"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Harm said quickly. He held my shoulders. "We'll drop Hunter off with Bud and Harriet, and then double back here."

I met his eyes. "Okay," I said in agreement. "I just … never mind."

"What?" Harm said. His gaze was so gentle.

"I just hate leaving Hunter alone after what just happened," I said. I cast a forlorn look across the hall where Hunter was quietly sitting and watching television. "But at the same time, I can't leave Clay and Vera. Jake is _missing."_

Harm breathed, and held me once again. "Mac, Hunter is an extremely strong boy. He's fine. And he'll be fine in a couple of days, when we next see him. I know you're scared for him, and every mother has a right to be, but he's alright."

He kissed the top of my head, and I stood balanced in his arms. "Swear?"

"Scout's honor."

I smiled thankfully and withdrew from his embrace. I cast a glance up the stairs. "I wonder how Vera and Clay are doing."

"Vera's not going to take this too well," Harm said softly.

I sighed, and gripped his hand. "I know."

* * *

**Same Time  
Up the Stairs  
Clay's POV**

"Vera!" I called. "Vera, calm down."

Vera stormed to the other side of the room, grabbing her Beretta M92F. She slipped the gun into her belt. "Don't tell me to calm down," she whispered venomously. "My three year old son was kidnapped by a _terrorist."_

"Vera, look at this logically," I began, but –

"Don't tell me to look at this logically!" she screamed. "He's only three, Clay! He's fucking _three." _She released a strangled whimper. "Get out of my way."

"No."

Her face is tear-streaked and red. "I swear to God, Clay … if you don't get out of my way …"

"And if I do?" I challenged forcefully. Her dark eyes looked up at me. "Where will you go?" I spat. "Where will you look for him? Who will you go to?"

Vera's silence was deafening.

"HUH?" I screamed. "You've got nowhere to run! What are you going to do? Wave that gun around in people's faces and hope someone will give you a penny's worth of information? It's STUPID, Vera. STUPID."

"Stop it …" Vera whimpered. Her voice broke. "Just stop it …"

"Stop what?" I threw back. I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to make her suffer. "Stop making you face reality?"

Vera's throat tightened. "Just … stop pretending you _care," _she whispered.

I stopped. _What?_

"Stop pretending I care?" I resounded. I stared at her, but her eyes refused to meet mine. "Stop pretending I care?"

I moved towards her but she backed up. I try to be angry, and spiteful, and malicious, but all I can convey is the hurt that I feel. "How can you even _think _that I don't care about Jake? About our son?" I whispered. _"Our son, _Vera."

"You're never around," Vera whispered, eyes cast down at the ground. "You never come see us. Come see Jake. And he misses you so much, Clay," she murmured. "You're all he ever talks about. He loves you so much, and you never so much as _visit."_

I feel my voice breaking. "I want to be there, Vera," I whispered. "You know I do, it's just …"

"I know," she snapped, her voice suddenly hard and bitter. "Work. It's always work. Well, newsflash, Clay. You don't have to be the director of the CIA. You're smart, and you're capable, and you could do a hundred other things that wouldn't keep you away from Jake … or from … from me."  
She looked up at me with the eyes of an injured puppy and I felt my whole inside freeze. How could I do this to her … How could I be the one responsible of _that_ look?

"Now … it's too late," Vera whispered.

"No," I said forcefully. I walked over to her, so my eyes were bare inches from hers. "Jake's alive, Vera. And we're going to get him back. We're going to bring him home."

"Oh, Clay …" she whispered, tears thickening her voice. She shook her head, and I felt my whole body seize. _She'd given up hope …_

"We're getting him back!" I cried, and I shook her, as if the motion would somehow force the belief inside her head. "We're getting him back, Vera."

"I love him so much, Clay." It was all she could say. "I love him so … damn … _much_."

"I know," I whispered, and she seemed to almost fall into my arms. I held onto her, as if I let go, so would any notion of my son's existence. "You're a terrific mom, Vera. Jake is so lucky to have you."

Vera wrapped her arms around my neck, head leaning against my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there," I whispered. "I wanted to be … I did … I should have been. It was stupid to put my job ahead of my family." My hand trailed up and down her back. "I wish I could take the last three years back."

Vera laughed through tears. "You and me both."

"Oh, honey," I whispered into her hair. _Honey. _It felt so strange to be calling her that again. So perfectly right. "I've missed you."

And suddenly we weren't talking about Jake anymore. This was a whole other playing field.

Vera gripped the back of my shirt. I held her even tighter. "I've missed you too," she whispered.

My hand worked its way down her back and onto her waist. I pulled the gun from her belt, and placed it delicately on the side table. "Tomorrow," I whispered into her hair, "We'll go back to the prison. We'll talk to anyone and everyone Abbas ever talked to. We'll follow up on every lead on every person that ever visited Abbas, and we'll find Jake." I kissed the top of her head. "We'll find him."

Vera looked up at me. Her dark eyes met mine, and she nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

Slowly, we cinched towards the bed, and when we met it, we tumbled in. Vera laid curled against my arm, trying desperately to grab the sleep she could not reach. I held her, simply refusing to let go. Only one thought could circle my mind.

My whole world was crumbling.

In a matter of seconds, my whole world had come caving in. Jake … my son … my _son. _I didn't want to cry. I wasn't good at crying. If there'd been any one thing my father had impacted on me before he died, it was how important it was to keep emotion at bay. But this time … I couldn't stop myself.

Tears streaked down my cheeks, but I didn't utter a sound.

"Clay …" Vera whispered against my skin. I'd missed the feeling of a body against mine. I'd missed the accompanying warmth. I couldn't trust myself to say anything. I let her whisper my name over and over again.

The sky was dark. Wind whispered gently against the leaves, as they rustled in rhythm along the empty stone-cobbled streets. Through the window, the moonlight fell on us in heavy assault.

And we surrendered.

* * *

**Same Time  
Same Place  
Harm's POV**

"What do we do?" Shapiro whispered.

From outside the guest bedroom, Nysa, Tony, and I stood huddled close together, voices dropped so only we three could hear.

"What _can _we do?" I whispered. "We don't even know where to start."

"You could start by filling me in," Nysa retaliated. "No one's told me anything about who Abbas is or what he's done. You can't keep me out of the loop," she pressed. "I'm too valuable."

Tony and I shared a long heavy look. "Fine," I whispered, breaking eye-contact with Tony. "We'll tell you everything. But you realize, this is completely confidential?"

"Got it."

"You can't tell a _soul," _Tony pressed.

"Okay, okay," Nysa muttered, rolling her eyes. "I get the meaning of the word confidential." She shook her head. "Americans."

I let the comment slide, though my patriotic side bristled. "We've got to help them find Jake," I said as calmly as I could. Considering the fact that 24 hours ago, I'd been in the same situation, I knew the desperation and fear Clay and Vera had to have been feeling. And it would get no better over time. "We're going to have to split up."

"Split up and do what?" Tony interjected. "You just said we didn't know where to start."

"Well, there are only two places that will really give us any leads," I said softly. "Redgate Prison, and the explosion site."

"Um, Harm," Nysa said, practicality whipping her voice. "The explosion site … well, it exploded. What evidence do you think you can gather from that?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "But we have to try. Abbas lived there. Sure, for only a short amount of time, but he did. Anything that will give us a clue to where he is now, we need. For Jake's sake."

"So half of us take the prison, and the other where he kept Hunter?" Tony said.

"Yeah," I said. "Mac and I have to drive home tomorrow and drop Hunter over at the Roberts'. Then as we're coming back, we can go to the explosion site. It's closer than the prison."

"Okay," Shapiro said. "Where do you think Clay will want to go?"

"The prison," I responded immediately. "He'll hate sticking around for hours while we drive Hunter home. Redgate's a while's drive, but at least then he'll feel he's getting somewhere." Nysa and Tony looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders. "I've known the guy a while."

Nysa sighed. "Well ditto goes for Vera," she said. "Plus, she'll want to stick with Clay … no matter how much she denies it."

"That leaves you and me," Tony said, turning to Nysa. "Take your pick."

"Explosion site all the way," Nysa replied. "Convicts give me the creeps."

Tony sent an annoyed look her way, but nodded in agreement. "Okay, so me, Clay, and Vera, can head off tomorrow to Redgate. It'll take us maybe five hours to reach, depending on the traffic."

"We won't reach the site by then," I said. "Maybe eight hours for us. We'll have to leave early."

"Okay," Tony said. He looked at me hesitantly. He held out his hand. "Good luck, Harm."

"You too, Tony."

We shook hands.

Tony ran his hands through his hair, getting up. "Well, I'm gonna get some rest before tomorrow." His eyes were dark, aged. "Let's find this boy."

* * *

**A/N: Well, review … tell me what you think … if you're still talking to me, that is. And again, for all those who watch Lost and are Jate fans, check out "New Way to Breathe". **

**More updates soon. **


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